


Tumblr Fills

by Questions3



Series: Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9129151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: These are Prompts that I filled on Tumblr and may or may not submitted to the appropriate blogs. I am now posting them here for shits and giggles.





	1. Grunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Dwalin falling in love with you but not knowing how to express it, so he just grunts every time you say something.
> 
>  
> 
> http://thereandbackagainimagines.tumblr.com/post/118066523670/imagine-dwalin-falling-in-love-with-you-but-not
> 
>  This is arguably my favorite. So it's first!

 

            He was watching you.

            Not that this was anything new, you thought as you bit into your apple as the Company sat at banquet. He’d been watching you from the start.

            You’d been sitting at dinner then too. Waiting, poised over the delicious trout your brother had prepared as he huffed over to answer the door. It was most unusual to have guests come calling so late, really downright rude even. Which should have been the first clue that this guest, as well as the ones to follow were going to have all the social graces of a cactus bush. Either way, she’d been surprised and quite intimidated by the fierce looking male who’d stomped into the room moments later, a confused and flustered Bilbo trailing close behind. Actually, your brother was so close he’d rammed face first into the wall of muscle when the dwarf had suddenly stopped in the archway and stared rather fixedly at your underdressed self. You were at home and it was late, you’d intended to bed down after the meal, was it little wonder you were in little less than a loose shirt and your bathrobe? Really, it was completely inconsiderate of the male to just _stand_ there staring as you slowly turned purple with embarrassment and trembled in… fright? Well of course it was fright! A stranger had just barged into your home! _Fright_ was the logical, proper reaction. So was jumping up and tugging your robe shut… though you probably should have done that well before the second knock on the door drew that deep penetrating gaze away from you. You were going to blame surprise and panic on the lag in reaction time.

            Either way! You buckled up and raced to your room to dress only to come out moments later to find the singular dwarf had apparently sprouted another three. With all the hubbub afterwards you’d barely had a moment to _think_ never mind converse with any of your houseguests. Bilbo had to be calmed down after all, before he got a nosebleed or the vapors.

            Before you knew it the unexpected party turned into an unexpected journey, as Bilbo and yourself were mounted on ponies and prancing off with a grand totally of thirteen dwarves and a ridiculous old wizard. That was when you began to develop something of a sixth sense for the trail of those deep heavy eyes on your person. It started as a small tickle in the middle of your back and turned into a burning as you were riding. Master Dwalin, as you’d been informed, rode at the back of the troop, understandably guarding the flank, being so… formidable as it were. Bilbo and yourself were also rather close to the back, being so abysmal at riding. It seemed a perfect opportunity to get to know your first dwarf, and perhaps apologize for your disastrous first impressions.

            “Good day Master Dwalin!”

            Bushy brow furrowed and deep blue eyes turned forward as you settled to, well, _canter_ , next to the larger male. The only indication you had that he’d even acknowledge your presence was a small nod and a gruff huff of air through his nose. Most would be rather discouraged at the lack of interest or manners.

            You were not most, “I’d like to apologize for last evening. I know I looked a fright when you first entered our smial. And then to just disappear without a proper introduction or a by your leave, truly abhorrent on my part.”

            Another gruff huff of air was your answer. Well, that, and a curious rosy spread suffusing the base of the mostly obscured neck of your chosen companion.

            Your mother had once told you and Bilbo that if there were two more different twins in all Arda she’d be blessed confounded. To be sure, you were both polite and quite content to be the best hobbit you could be, but had you been Bilbo he’d have seen that ruby flush and moved onto a topic of conversation meant to lull and sooth. You father had once told you that if given a stick you’d poke at anything moving in a miles radius before moving on to whapping everything till it was begging for mercy.

            Sadly for Dwalin, he did not know this. “Oh dear, are you quite all right Master Dwalin? Have you been out in the heat too long? Your neck is turning an awful shade of red!”

            Your reaching fingers barely brushed his neck before it was caught in a calloused grip, dry and solid, as the dwarf turned wide eyes on you and grumbled in his reverberating tones something about “Fine… Thorin…” and galloping away as though a troll were after his head.

            You sat on your sweet tempered pony at the back for the rest of the day, swaying with the ambling beast, eyes trained on an ever-reddening broad shouldered dwarf. A small smile flirted across your lips as you hummed to yourself, barely noticing the way your hand kept clenching as you rode on.

            That seemed to be the end of it too as Bilbo and yourself struggled to keep up with the travel worn Company. Thorin was glowering more and more as each day passed and your brother and yourself became more and more sore and sleep deprived. You’d even lost a terrible amount of weight from the lack of meals. And you smelled. Everyone did. Honestly it got to the point the only thing keeping your temper in tact was Bilbo’s calming presence and his flustered attempts to dissuade you from galloping up to Thorin and kicking him in the head. The fun little game you’d developed with the gruff warrior was proving less funny and more annoying as you became more and more convinced the taller male was actually of a mind with Thorin. Hobbits weren’t known for their traveling prowess, and to compare the pair of you to weathered and worn nomads were both ridiculous and insulting! You’d like to see any _five_ of them prepare a six-course meal for thirty hobbits during the bleak season complete with birthday gifts and entertainment. The only ones who’d be capable of pulling anything half decent off would be the Ur family and they would still scandalize half their guest, the other half becoming enraged at Bofur’s crude jokes.

            And with Bilbo’s peacekeeping nature slowly wearing thin as his confidence was withered under harsh commentary and mean spirited teasing, it wasn’t any wonder he wasn’t there to stop you when your patience finally snapped.

            “No thanks to your hobbit,” had barely left the King’s mouth before you’d picked up a piece of the spit those horrible creatures had meant to cook you all with and bashed him in the back of the head.

            It was the surprise more than anything, you were sure, that had the King falling to his knees and staring at you in shock as you laid into the ungrateful vagrant, “No thanks to your lack wit kin for going temporarily deaf, dumb, and _blind_ you mean!? Because I guarantee had a pair of hobbit been watching the ponies at least _one_ of them would have _smelled_ those horrible beasts before it got close enough to steal four ponies and upend half the _damned woods_! And _another thing_ –”

            Bilbo came up behind you at that point and grasped you up, dragging you away to clean the _snot_ from your clothes as the dwarrow continued to stare in shock or laugh uproariously at the suddenly rabid hobbit lass in their midst. It wasn’t till much later, as you dried off from your third bath in _Rivendell_ that you’d realize Dwalin’s intent gaze had been, once more, tracking your rant, but this time it had been accompanied with a, dare you think it, proud smile flirting with his bearded lips. The thought would send a few flutters through your being and a soft smile over your lips as you hummed a bit as you dressed before falling into a pillowed _haven_.

            It wasn’t until the Carrock the dwarf managed to do more than grunt and huff at your overtures of friendship, however. The Eagles had deposited you all on the _smaller mountain_ and Gandalf had woken Thorin up from his ill-timed nap. It was as the King embraced your brother that you felt that burn in the middle of your shoulder blades once more. Then Gandalf informed the lot of you that you would be basically attempting a controlled tumble down the rest of the mountain.

            “It was damned stupid,” why anyone thought it wise to silently stalk you after the ordeal you’d just had was beyond you. Especially as you were making your way down a rather steep set of ‘stairs’ or so Gandalf surely _jest_. Thankfully the larger guard’s reflexes were sharp as ever and he managed to grab you before you stumbled off the ledge and drew you flush to a rather firm and warm chest.

            He was staring down at you, meeting your eyes as he continued to grasp at your bare elbows, warmth suffusing you as you stood there. It was… _tantalizing_. But no one got away with calling you stupid, “You know, I do believe that’s the first time you’ve spoken a _sentence_ in my general hearing range.”

            That red flush was there again, though you could barely make it out below all that bristly black hair. With one last brush of thick calloused thumb over the apparently _hyper_ sensitive skin at the indents of your elbows he released you and turned away, jumping down to the next level, “I’ve spoken to ye befur.” He turned around once there and reached up, waiting for you to jump down, his neck practically purple.

            It made you wonder how much it would take to make the color trail into his actual _face_ as you dropped into his hands, clasping at his _very_ broad shoulders, “Ah, so gruff huffing is a _language_!? I apologize Master Dwalin, I hadn’t realized. My first and only language being Common after all.” He dropped you like you were on fire and leapt to the next landing without a word. You thought that may be the end of it but as you leaned over to judge the next distance he was still there, waiting for you once more.

            It was four steps later when he spoke again, “… Dwalin… Jus’ Dwalin,” he didn’t even look at you as he barely growled that out. Luckily because the goofy smile on your face was surely ridiculous. Kíli, who’d been pacing you, rolled his eyes before pantomiming gagging and falling to the step below. You stuck your tongue out at him as he came back into sight before Dwalin followed him down. Oh good, the last step.

            “Well, my name’s Y/N. Once you’ve used it I’ll begin to address you in whatever fashion you _desire_ ,” you may have dropped your voice at the last and stood closer to the dwarf than strictly necessary when he let you down once more. It may have been taking things a bit far but the deepening of that red at his neck and the brief clenching of strong hands at your hips was beyond worth it as you felt something tighten and flutter in your lower stomach.

            “You could have been killed up there,” you actually weren’t expecting the sudden hint of raspy despair in his voice, or for him to remain so close as he continued. Those dark blue eyes were hooded and the grooves on his forehead were deep.

            His obvious concern touched you deeper than you’d thought it would, and catching as you felt your stomach twist at the thought, but you kept a straight face as you nodded, “We all could have.”

            “We’re warriors, we’re bred fer this.”

            “Bofur’s a toy maker and Ori’s a scribe.”

            “They’ve training.”

            “So’ve I. It’s in embroidery, doesn’t make me any less of a meat shield.”

            “Y/N!” Heavy hands suddenly came up and grasped your shoulders as his eyes widened a bit and his spine seemed to snap into place. He was honestly horrified by your proclamation, but then, so were you. And it didn’t seem to have any effect at all on the pleasure you suddenly experienced from hearing your name uttered by that gravelly brogue.

            “DWALIN!” your mimic may have been a lot less harsh and a lot more breathy but you could feel your eyes widen and your lips and face pinch. Fear was shared and discarded for necessity. He should know this better than anyone else, having taken oaths to his King just as you and your brother had.

            Your fear didn’t sit well with him, it seemed, as he loosened his grip, trailed his hands down your arms a moment before nodding, “… Jus’ promise… no’ again.”

            You smiled at the ridiculousness of the request and watched as his dark eyes trailed down a moment before turning back to your eyes, that bright red color starting to glow through once more, this time seeping into the tips of his adorably rounded ears. This caused you to smile even wider, “Awe, Dwalin, I didn’t know you cared!”

            He was back to his huffing grumble as he stormed ahead of you once more, and you allowed yourself to trail his broad shoulders and densely muscled back a moment as you bit your bottom lip, trying to keep the enormous grin from your face and failing miserably. It wasn’t until Bilbo fell back to ask you why you’d taken to skipping that you realized how silly you were being.

            You were a little distracted afterwards to push your dwarf any further over the brink as Gandalf decided keeping pertinent information about their intended ‘host’ was a brilliant plot twist. Being chased by giant bears was tiring work, not to mention the epic amounts of climbing and fighting and smoke inhalation. So you slept late, ate a lot and languished in peace till you were informed it was time to leave. Even so, a day’s worth of leisure in sun soaked fields wasn’t enough to make picking up a pack with enough food in it to last you three weeks easy.

            Or possible you realized as you fell onto your ass after trying to put it on. In that time, however, your brother and yourself apparently made a large impression on your host, “Hmm, I could always keep the small ones here. They would prosper in these lands, made fat with bread and honey.” Beorn’s announcement was met with the anticipated uproar as well as two very angry dwarrow grabbing up a hobbit apiece and dragging them onto the ponies in front of them. Though you’d certainly miss the fields and the food you were more than happy to find out exactly what Dwalin’s limit was as that charming pink flush rushed up his neck and into his face. Though you hardly got the time to enjoy your revelation as you suddenly doubled over the pony’s neck laughing at Bilbo’s flustered and bright pink face as Thorin marched their pony to the front of the line. Dwalin’s thick arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as he joined in your mirth, his own deep rumbling chuckles vibrating through your back and setting you abuzz as you all rode towards the forest.

            The forest was terrible; the less said about it the better.

            And you had wanted a bath but that river was ridiculous.

            Between everything before and then the giant war that happened after the _dragon_ , there was very little interaction with anyone, especially after Bilbo was almost thrown from the wall. In the end, the dust had settled and a tentative alliance had been forged. The Men and the Elves had sworn to aid the Dwarrow in resurrecting their home and by the time the first influx of refugees made their way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor there was space cleared and cleaned for them and some semblance of order was erected.

            That had been almost a year ago.

            Kíli was healed.

            Fíli was healed.

            Thorin was limping but mostly healed.

            It was Durin’s Day, the anniversary of the great delousing, as it were.

            This was the feast meant to honor of the thirteen dwarves and two hobbits brave enough to face down a _dragon_ to get back this mountain.

            And you were being stared at… _again_.

            “What’s got ye so quiet tonight luv?”

            With a heaving sigh you smiled at the dwarf in front of you, “Just think of something long overdo Bofur. If you’ll excuse me a moment?” and rose to your feet carefully. You straightened your spine and raised your left brow as you turned sharply in the direction of those heavy eyes, smirking as the deep blues turned swiftly away from you and that charming red wave worked its way back up onto that thick neck. Without so much as a hint of your plans you flounced across the hall to the table your brother sat at by Thorin’s left, helping the dwarf with his meal and stopped in front of the guard to his right. Thorin glanced up at you, smirked behind his goblet and knocked his elbow not so subtly into his cousin’s side just as Balin looked up from his brother’s right and smiled at you, “Good evening Y/N.” The older son of Fundin rolled his eyes as his awkward little brother continued to trail his eyes everywhere but the pretty little hobbit right in front of him.

            “Good evening Balin,” you nodded to the dwarf in acknowledgement as you lunged across the table at the fluster guard, grabbed him by the beard and dragged his lips to yours. You could hear Thorin’s grumbled “About time” and Nori and Bofur’s screaming laughter as Kíli and Fíli thumped the table down the way. It wasn’t very deep or long a kiss, but it was enough, and hard enough to get your intent across as you dropped back to the stone floor and settled your skirts once more. “Now,” you stated calmly as you smoothed the wrinkles from your bodice, “you can continue to sit there and stare at me for the rest of the winter, the end of which I intend to leave for the Shire once more should I not have any reason to continue my residence in the Mountain _or_ ,” you looked up and cocked your head to the side as you smiled beguilingly at the _very_ red _very_ dower looking befuddled dwarf. He didn’t seem to take the thought of you leaving very well _at all_. Without another word you twirled on your toes and walked out of the hall and idly strolled back to your rooms.

            It took maybe ten minutes for the guard to catch up to you, not even three feet from your room. It took ten minutes and three seconds for him to pull you into his arms and steal the breath right out of you, trailing those large work worn hands over the thin material of your gown. As you both parted to breath for a moment, foreheads flush with each other you reach a hand behind his neck, caressing the smoother skin there as you asked breathlessly, “Is this how you intend to communicate with me from now on dear? Not that I’m complaining but it may get a wee bit confusing. I mean, even this is open to a plethora of interpretation, does he want me, does he _like_ me, did he just kind of _fall_ on his way across the hall – ” you were shut up in a fashion you were growing _surprisingly_ fond of.

            As you parted again your dwarf grumbled, “You talk enough fer the pair o’ us. And ye’r no’ leavin’ in the spring.”

            You sighed as he nipped your bottom lip once before claiming the it and its twin for a tender, pecking kiss, followed by a half dozen more, “Is… that… so? Why… not? Will… I be doing something else then?”

            Those strong hands trailed up your sides and over your slender neck to cup your cheeks, turning your face up to his own as the guard stared into your smiling eyes, “Aye. Ye’ll be marryin’ me.”

            You crinkled your nose, “Just like that? Because you say so? I can think of a number of better reasons than that. Hell, I could think of three better reasons to marry _Bofur_ than _that_!”

            The growl was fierce as he moved you both back and trapped you again the cool stone wall behind you, rumbling through you as he pressed flush against you and laid a harsh claiming kiss to you in the next moment. The assertion in it set your blood to thrumming and quivering through you. He tore away as your knees began to cave under your trembling self and growled into the space between, “Because I love ye, even if ye are a pain in me –”

            It was your turn to shut him up as you jumped up and twined your legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth when his hands came up to cup your ass and help keep you perched, the roughened texture sending heat and sharp twinges of pleasure through you as it caught on your silky warm skin.

            It wouldn’t be till the next morning that you realized you hadn’t actually verbalized the return of his sentiment. After that it wouldn’t be till that afternoon you confirmed your intent to marry your dwarf. In the end the only thing that got you out of the room by teatime was your much-abused stomach as it grumbled for sustenance. Especially if you were hoping to continue in your current activities.


	2. Cut Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You help Bilbo get the keys to the prisons. When Thranduil recognizes Bilbo he rats you out and Thranduil interrogates you. When Bard and the others leave, Thrandy cuts you off for a week.
> 
> Didn't mean for there to be so much angst but there ya go!

 

            You knew it was over as soon as the hobbit revealed himself.

            It wasn’t that he didn’t try; he did the dear thing with his fluffy curls and sassy little face. But he was absolute _shit_ at lying. And it became obvious as the tiny creature lifted his smiling face in your direction before freezing and turning back to your King, the movement sharp enough you feared he might have broken his own neck.

            Your King has been and is many things, but stupid had never been one of them. So it didn’t actually take the Man, Bard’s, observation that “You know the Lady Y/N,” to confirm the truth of the matter. And it didn’t take Bilbo’s fumbling denial to have a sharp understanding dawn on the Elven King’s face.

            There had never been a time in your existence that you weren’t drawn to small things. Legolas would tease you when you were children that it was because you were constantly looking for things smaller than yourself. Tauriel would help you tend your tiny menagerie of bunnies and birds and the orphan fawns declaring you merely had an innate ability to find goodness wherever you went. Your King would huff at the three of you and make arrangements for a shelter and stable to be erected for your softhearted endeavors. As you grew so did the number of creatures you’d saved and healed, to the point you couldn’t leave the walls of the kingdom without stumbling upon one of your many successes.

            So was it really any wonder that when you’d stumbled upon a starving Halfling, shivering and feverish in the halls you’d instantly wrapped the tiny male into your shawl and hidden him away in your chambers? It had taken a week to break the sickness and another to get him to speak to you about his and the dwarrow prisoner’s intentions. Though you felt supreme guilt over your actions you’d decided to aid the smaller creatures. Your lord had many solid arguments against the tiny fathers but that dragon could not be left to his horde forever. Too much evil had been allowed purchase in your home and in these lands. Though you weren’t fool enough to think this all a symptom of the dragon in question, you weren’t so blind as to think leaving the beast in the Mountain was actually a good idea.

            So you’d aided the small Master Baggins, with his willing heart and stalwart loyalty gain access to his fellows and the keys to the dungeons, even told him of a possible escape path. Everything had gone off rather smoothly, the Festival of Stars was well underway and most of your kin were off getting drunk and having fun. Even your King was supposed to be there. _Supposed_ to being the operative word.

            “Y/N! Where has she misplaced herself?” you heard the mumbling just as Bilbo had managed to secure his fellows in their barrels. The hobbit turned to you in terror as the King’s grumbling came closer and closer. You had a split second to turn your mind to treason as you gestured to Halfling to hide as you turned towards the approaching voice.

            “Ah, there you are. Why do you linger in these halls?” even as drink fogged as his eyes were they pinned you with their severity and strength. He was always magnificent, long white gold hair cascading down his back, high straight lines of his cheeks and nose lying under the piercing intensity of crystal blues as they wandered over your person. It had taken some five hundred years after your maturity for the King to give over to the attraction that you both harbored for each other, but it had proven too much a temptation to live with. Even so the pair of you were _very_ careful to keep this arrangement hidden, though you were sure Tauriel, if not Legolas, knew of it. As it were this was the first time since the imprisonment of the dwarrow that the pair of you had been alone, and as you watched the King of your home and heart it was becoming rather obvious he was as tired of waiting as you were.

            With a soft smile and a coy glance in the direction of the barrels your prisoners were secreted away in you stepped closer to your King, “I was merely… waiting.”

            A small, swift quirk of severe lips accompanied a sharpening of blue eyes as they burned a trail over your silk clad form as the Lord of the Greenwood extended a slender hand towards you, “Such beauty should never be left wanting.”

            Your smile wasn’t half as put upon as it had been a moment ago as a small fission of awareness ran through you. Casting a demure look downward you placed a soft hand atop the white, silver silk of your King’s tunic, “Quite a pretty sentiment, though you’ve hardly been practicing such.” Heavy lashes veiled your own heated gaze as you looked up through them.

            A strong, long hand came up to clasp your hand to his chest as its brother twined around you waist to drag you forward, flush to his own long body. His white blonde tresses fell around the pair of you as he leaned down to brush soft lips over your tipped ear, “Allow me to make amends for such grievous insult, my little one.”

            You bit at your plump bottom lip. Truly, drink caused that beautiful mouth to loosen, switched that wicked tongue from harsh to beguiling. It was rare, but when your King let himself relax, normally in your presence, there was something almost boyish in his nature. It wasn’t a hardship to accept the invitation, and ignore the small twinge of discomfit at the treason you’d been in the midst of committing.

            That discomfort came back in full with interest as you stood in the corner of your King’s tent as the little Halfling offered the Arkenstone as a bargaining chip. Your eyes were trained on the floor in front of you as your King continued with the strategy meeting with the Esgaroth’s representative and the wizard. You felt the chill of his anger even from your station, and firmed your resolve as you waited for the rest to vacate the tent before he turned his attention, finally, towards you once more.

            Silence reigned for five minutes of eternity before you steeled your spine and turned your face upwards to take in your Lord. That beautiful face was stiff as though carved from the glittering stone the Man, Bard, had taken with him. There was no hint of anger or betrayal; no lines of any sort to suggest emotion existed within this ethereal being. He merely stood, facing your stiff form as he clasped a half full goblet in his hand, poised half to his lips as he met your eyes. He took a long sip from the deep red liquid therein before breathing deeply and asking in a misleadingly stolid tone, “Have you anything to say for yourself, Y/N?”

            Though you knew you were in the wrong, you’d betrayed your King and lover for a pack of misfits who’d let a dragon loose on an unprepared city of Man after all, the tone was such that you hadn’t heard since you were knee high to the very same being. And though the wise path would probably involve some form of groveling and apology, it was not in your nature to allow such slight to pass you by, _especially_ from one who knew you in such an intimate fashion. With a furrowing or your own brow, you felt heat suffuse your cheeks as you announced to your King, “What would you have me say my lord?”

            The clipped tone, and clear temper in your face was obviously not expected as the King took a moment to catalogue your reaction, a small wrinkle appearing between his brow as he questioned it before smoothing away under his own righteousness, “As I see it you have proven to be indirectly responsible for the destruction of the city on the lake, to say nothing of your _treason_ to me, your _King_ and liege. Have you _nothing_ to say in your defense?” His voice shook with power and anger at the last as he came to stand before you, forcing your chin up in order to keep eye contact. A clear intimidation technique, one he used far too often on those smaller than himself, though you had never been on the receiving end of such. He’d never tried to make you feel as a lesser being before.

            Sadly, the action had the exact opposite reaction from you, as you became even more incensed at his high handedness. He may be your King but he was also you lover and you’d never allow such nonsense from anyone who’d shared of you so intimately, “Only that had my _liege_ not been acting the scared child my _treason_ would not have been necessary in the first place.”

            Anger turned his blue eyes nearly silver as he reared back and away from you, “You have seen the destruction your actions have led to with your own eyes!”

            “I have seen the actions of a _dragon_ that should _never_ have been suffered to roost so near our front door for half so long!” your voice rose as you followed him, stepping into his space as he’d invaded your own moments before, “It is tragic what happened, and I do bear a large part of the blame, but do not think to lay the fault of this on my feet alone. That wyrm’s evil has suffused these lands and its people for far longer than I’ve even _walked_ this earth! It was the sufferance of cowards that allowed this to happen now, and the bravery of a few that has ended this tyranny.” You breathed deeply before stepping back a step and continuing, “I do not make excuses for what I have done, merely express sorrow that it had to be done and in such a manner.”

            You stood there, staring at the ground as your King watched you, eyes boring holes into your skull, “And what do you suppose I should do with such insolence?” His voice was cold and clipped, nothing you’d ever been on the receiving end of, and it burned you as your heart bled from within.

            “I do not know, your highness,” your voice was barely a whisper through your clenched teeth.

            A second ticked by and then ten before the rustling of his robes made you sneak a look up as he moved back to the table that supported the map and announced, “Leave. I want you gone from my sight. Return to the woodlands and remain behind our walls until I return. It should be no more than a fortnight hence. I will deal with you then.”

            Your eyes widened at the dismissal as you stepped forward and slammed your hands down on the map that had captured his undivided attention, “But the Battle!”

            “ _Leave_!” his voice rumbled with power as he continued to purview the maps, not even acknowledging you as you flinched away from his ire. Your eyes filled rapidly as you clenched your teeth in anger and stormed out of the tent to your own mount, a dappled doe that lapped at your face as you drew near. With some softly murmured words in Sindarin you swung up and onto her back before galloping off and out of the camp. You didn’t see Legolas as he called after you or raced back to his father’s tent to find out just what in Eru’s name was happening. You could barely make out anything as the world blurred around you and your own anger propelled you forward and into the night.

***

            The look on your King’s face when you rode into the fray beheading orc and gobblins with your glowing elfish long sword was priceless, though it did little to still the anger in your heart at his dismissal, or the guilt in your soul at your part in the discord between you. Either way, the therapeutic means of rendering head from shoulders was doing you a great service when you were suddenly unseated from your raging mount and had to make your way on foot through the horde. It was a vicious battle and you lost track of your lord and friends multiple times throughout. Only your confidence in their skills had anything resembling peace stilling your panic in the moment. Afterwards it was heralded through the camps that the dwarrow had lost their King as well as his heirs, settling heavily among the count of the multiple dead. You stayed long after the battle to aid in the search for survivors and laying those who were doomed to their rest. Kneeling beside dwarf, man, and elf alike in their final moments, offering comfort and taking messages for family and loved ones. Exhaustion rode heavily on you as you stumbled back to the camp, intending to sleep the fortnight you’d been banished from your King’s sight away in the stables next to your mount. She’d been very happy to reunite with you, the tale of her kin’s fall driving the pair of you to take comfort in each other and the stolid bond you maintained through battle and long life.

            It didn’t feel like you’d been sleeping for more than a moment when you were suddenly thrust into consciousness, breathing harsh and rapid as you bolted upright in the cot, monsters and night terrors chasing your mind into consciousness. It was a testament to your terror and exhaustion that you didn’t realize you weren’t sitting in a lump of hay, nor were the strong arms clasped around you something your doe had spontaneously borne in order to comfort you. With a stilting huff and snuffle you turned tearing eyes up to the brooding face of your King where he’d turned his own head down to whisper soft assurances into your ears. With a small whimper you clung to him as a limpet on a tree and allowed him to caress and rock you till the shaking stopped.

            As you calmed you began to stiffen, becoming more aware of the broken nature of your relationship by the moment. With one last sigh and sniffle you moved to leave his grip only to have it tighten, “No.”

            The command was barely a whisper as Thranduil burrowed his face into your neck and clasped you, almost desperately to him. You shivered as a tremor, not your own, rocked through you, “But–”

            “No.”

            And you nodded as he clutched you to him through the rest of the night, your own arms fierce as they returned the grasp, refusing to be budged by anything of this world, and maybe even the next.


	3. At Least You're Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine telling Legolas a funny joke but he doesn’t get it
> 
>  
> 
> http://thereandbackagainimagines.tumblr.com/post/114259876174/imagine-telling-legolas-a-funny-joke-but-he
> 
>    
> Meh, this one's kinda dumb but cute.

 

            “Y/N! Are you all right!?” Legolas’s concern was deeply felt as he raced to your side.

            And completely understandable as you’d just stumbled into the room clutching your stomach as you bent over at the waist. Your eyes were streaming and your shoulders were heaving as your lungs tried, in vain, to capture air to sustain your continued existence. He reached you just as your legs gave up their trembling battle to keep you up and you collapsed to the ground with a yowl. “Y/N!” The young prince’s blue eyes were wide and filled with terror as he followed you down and grabbed your shoulders only to grow even wider as the fear was replaced with confusion as your own hands came up to clench at his sleeves and loud laughter spilled from your breathless form.

            The face on your prince was priceless, the strain there aiding you in you attempts to calm yourself. You fell forward into his arms burrowing your giggling face into his neck, barely registering the slow release of tension in the archer’s form as he brought his own arms up and began to rub your back in comfort as you began to quiet.

            As the last of your hysteria dwindled to gasping chuckles you turned your streaming eyes back to the poor addled lad and smiled brightly, “Oh, Leggy! You *giggle* you should have heard. OH! But that damned dwarf *yowl* _with the hat_! Oh Eru save me!”

            “Did he… harm you?” the concern was there in his eyes as he looked you over once more but it was tempered in deep confusion. He hadn’t stopped rubbing your back soothingly though, and you were cheerfully warmed by the caress.

            “No of course not, *snort*. I can handle a single dwarf in a cage. No but he told me… Okay, okay, wait!” you clapped your hands in front of you and bounced to your knees, coming eye to eye with the kneeling prince. Your smile was infectious as his own lips were twitching a bit as his brow smoothed, though he was still very confused. But it was hard not to be just as enthusiastic as you when faced with your large eyes, luminescent with joy and mirth. “Okay so! I was down there patrolling those dwarves your father’s captured and they start grumbling again, as they seem rather inclined to do.” You shifted on your legs getting more comfy, which also had the benefit of placing you that much closer to your avid audience. You smiled wide as his perfect brow wrinkled again in concentration, taking in your words like they were the answers to the universe. “One of them started demanding a pipe at least. Obviously I didn’t engage, we’re not allowed to, at any rate, and they’re prisoners, not entitled to anything but their three squares a day. Anyway, then the big one with the hobgoblin son shouted at the yellow one,” you screwed up your face and deepened your voice to affect a fairly depressing impression of the great hairy beast, “‘What do ye intend ta do with tha’ then?! Blow smoke rings at the gangly bastards?!’”

            A small twitch at your prince’s lip was all you got but you could see his interest was piqued and continued hurriedly, “Of course this caused some kind of dwarvish posturing and the lot started shouting about their individual talents with a pipe! I swear they’d compete to see which could fall over and brain themselves best at this rate. Anyway! Then the littlest one piped up, ‘I can blow ‘em out my nose!’” You had to start breathing deep because you could feel yourself falling apart again as you drew near the end. “Then, *giggle* the biggest one said he’d like to give it a try and *snort* the one *whine* with the hat,” you gasped as you started trembling again and Legolas started to look concerned again, drawing you a bit closer to him, hands trailing your back in a failed attempt to calm you and keep you breathing. “He hollered into the hall, ‘We’ll be ‘avin’ none o’ tha’ Bombur, no one wants ta be seein’ ye blowin’ smoke out yer ass!’ The little one looked so impressed and asked if he could *snort* really do that and then the hatted menace,” your breath caught before you squeaked out in a rush, “’Oh aye! I’ve seen the stains in his underdraws!’” You howled again as you collapsed forward into Leggy’s arms shaking and cackling like a loon. His tunic barely muffled your hysteria.

            You slowly calmed enough to realize you were laughing alone and turned streaming eyes up to your prince to catch the disgust and confusion in his face, which just set you off all over again. Really, such a sheltered little princeling. He’d probably never done laundry a day in his life. Poor lamb. “Y/N, I don’t understand…”

            You shook in silent mirth as you leaned back a bit in his arms and brought a hand up to his soft cheek and nodded, “It’s fine love. It’s fine. At least *giggle* At least you’re pretty.” With that, you leaned in and pressed a fond kiss to his now very much offended lips and rose to your feet. You’d left the prisoners unguarded after all, but you knew your King would rather have an escape attempt occur than any one of his legions appear anything less than regal and untouched in front of the dwarves.


	4. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine marveling at how large Bofur’s hands are in comparison with your own
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/113725344666/imagine-marveling-at-how-large-bofurs-hands-are
> 
> Imagine Bofur kissing and nibbling on your neck and ear as his hand goes into your underwear and he whispers dirty words to you
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/111962980298/imagine-bofur-kissing-and-nibbling-on-your-neck
> 
>  
> 
> Meh

            “Was’ the matter then luv?”

            You started from where you’d been sitting with an open book sprawled in your lap, eyes flying from their previous preoccupation to brown eyes glancing your way under a floppy hat. They were laughing as they turned back to the work happening in the rather… distracting hands.

            “I was just – I mean I noticed that – well you see – you-I- you really do have very large hands,” your cheeks were glowing at the end of your stumbling confession, shoulders hunching a bit at the ridiculousness of your observation and the blatant staring you’d been caught at.

            Bofur’s eyes pinched a bit as he stilled in his activities, brows contracting, watching you carefully as one would watch a startled animal, his tone as he spoke was soft and sure, “I’d not harm ye lass… I’d never – ”

            “Of course – I mean, no, you’d never – how could you – I…I feel very…safe… with you, Master Bofur.” Really, if your face got any more heated you’d cook straight through. You huffed a breath trying to rein yourself in to gain some semblance of control of this ridiculous conversation. You turned your eyes back to your book, pretending to pick up your reading as you continued in a sad attempt at an offhand tone, “I was just… impressed, with the delicate work you’re doing. You are very… talented Master Bofur.”

            You were so busy pretending to read you didn’t see or hear the dwarf get up and make his way to you. You did feel him lift you up, causing a small squeak to escape you as he sat back on the pillow you’d been using for a seat and deposited you onto his own lap. Before you could work enough of the heated red rush from your face to form a coherent thought you felt the objects of your previous fascination wandering up your waist and onto your arms. They cupped your elbows a moment, large, calloused thumbs swirling soft circles into the, apparently, very sensitive skin at the soft junctures. The small caress sent a shiver through you, tightening your scalp and working its way down to settle like a heated weight just under your stomach that radiated back through you and into your overheated cheeks as your breathing went a bit irregular. Those weathered digits then trailed down, delicately tracing the blue veins, brushing through the near invisible fine hairs there as they came to rest atop your own much smaller appendages.

            “There now,” a soft baritone reverberated through you, making you realize you’d pushed back into the solid heat behind you, melting into the dwarf as he continued to lightly trail over your fingers and palms. The tickling sensation was sending pulses through you, causing that heavy heat to contract at every new ministration. He took your smaller hands and turned them so he was cradling them against his own, turning them up for your perusal. The left was softly grasped and brought up, palm out as he continued to speak, his breath ghosting over your cheek and neck, offering a moment of respite from the glowing blush, “Look at how tiny yers are? Tiny, delicate, precious little things.” You heard the smile you couldn’t see in the teasing tone as he brought the joined hands closer to your face and then over your shoulder. Your eyes followed the motion as he brought your smaller palm to his lips, his bristly mustache tickling as the moist lips excited.

            Another kiss landed on your wrist, right where the pulse was jumping. It lingered there a moment as a smile worked its way back onto his face. As he took his face away from your clasped hands you realized your right hands hadn’t been inactive. You barely registered the slow trail it was taking down your stomach and thigh to the edge of your skirts as your mind crackled from the feel of sharp teeth nipping at your neck, the small hurts instantly laved by a warm, wet tongue. Your sharp gasps seemed to be encouraging the miner as he burrowed his face into your neck, breathing deeply as he shifted beneath you. A foreign hardness was rubbing against your back while your right hands found their way under your skirts, the feel of your own smaller digits trailing up your thigh accompanied by the barest teasing of larger calloused hands following was a sensory bludgeoning. Your left hands were slowly making their own way up, over your stomach once more, and found their way to cupping and softly squeezing at your left breast through the thin shift your wore in the summer heat, causing that heated weight to contract sharply and send your waist thrusting up where your barely clothed center was met with your right hands. You were drenched, the touch causing a heat to trail from the contact to the pulsing one within and a mewling noise to wreck your throat as you begged for release from this teasing.

            “Is this okay lass?” the warm breath cascaded over your neck and shoulder as his hands hesitated in their chosen tasks.

            With a shuddering breath you nodded rigorously, turning your head to seal your mouth over any part of him you could reach, which happened to be the side of his stubbled jaw. The bite was probably a bit rough but it caused a satisfying growl in the dwarf and there was no arguing with the results. Without further ado you felt a large calloused finger accompanying your own smaller nimbler one into your core, trailing at the lining there as a thumb played with the lips of your entrance from without, brushing against a bundle of fleshy nerves on occasion that sent static into your mind and stars behind your eyes. You barely registered as your joined left hands worked their way under your clothing and began teasing at the nipple of your left breast as the sensation ebbed into the larger flux of pleasure coming from your neck where the tinkerer was nipping and nuzzling your collar and trailing a tongue up your jaw before nipping at your left lobe, “Mahal, lass, you’re tight, and wet. Ye’ve damn near pruned me finger alre – ”

            His observation was interrupted by the groaning mewl that rumbled through you as your entrance was stretched to accommodate another set of fingers. The relay of information was messy and exhilarating as you could feel the contractions around your own fingers as the larger calloused ones directed and swept over your sensitized muscles and bundle. You were at once a component to your own pleasure and at the mercy of this handy dwarf as he continued to pet and thrust and nibble as he breathed and cursed his appreciation into your ears. “So responsive, so eager. Ye’ve been in need for quite a whiles now love, haven’t ye? Watchin’ me hands, ye knew I’d take care o’ ye. All that proper airs an’ innocent smiles was all ta hide the wet, desperate little minx ye are.”

            A third set of digits slowly circled your pulsing and leaking portal, teasing the flaps there and caressing as the others stretched and needled space from the elastic musculature. Slowly they worked themselves in as you panted and thrust to meet the addition, your core throbbing to be filled further, greedy with need and want, “Ye’re famished fer it. Ye’ve been begging fer someone ta take ye in hand, fill ye, thrust into tha’ cryin’ center o’ yers an’ _fuck_ the _proper_ right _outta ya_.”

            Everything crescendoed as each emphasis was accompanied with a quick thrust from the hips and lap you occupied. The combined effects of a warm hand trailing over your breasts and body, hot breath blowing into your ear and neck, the improper language being growled into your ear in a practically _feral_ tone, the feeling of an iron hard something pressing into you plump rear, and the resulting thrusting of your own hips onto the sizable girth of the pleasuring hands below sent your mind and body over an edge and into an ocean of wave after wave of pleasure and release.

            You didn’t realize you’d screamed into your release until your twined left hands came to capture the sounds, muffling them and pushing your head back onto a strong shoulder as a ticklish beard and mouth puffed into your neck where Bofur had burrowed into it. You’d never know how long you lay there, melting into the dwarf behind you, panting as you came back to yourself, shivering as each tired contraction wrapped around those talented fingers once more. Your heart was thundering in your ears, calming slowly, matching the beating of a similarly rapid thrumming that was vibrating through your back. Only as your breath became steady and you only registered your own stuttering heart beat once more did you feel Bofur shift and breath deeply from your neck before slowly extracting your hands from under your skirt, sending grieved waves of hollowness into your body as he left.

            Blinking your eyes open slowly you found yourself looking up into smiling brown eyes as he watched you. He leaned down a bit, bending both your heads at an uncomfortable angle, but easily ignored for a quick taste of each other. It was as he shifted back you realized there was still a very hard, large something at your back, “You didn’t…” even after all that you still blushed like a tomato, especially when you noticed how raspy your voice sounded.

            He chuckled lowly as he trailed his nose over your cheek and jaw, “There’ll be plenty o’ time fer tha’ lass. Besides,” his smile was wicked as he leaned into your ear once more, your body instantly tensing and shivering in anticipation, “I ‘ad te make certain ye’d be able ta handle me first. It’s only polite yea?” Your heart beat picked up again, fluttering in your chest like some tormented thing, distracting you as he disengaged your hands before tossing you up into his arms and walking with purpose towards your room.


	5. Hairy Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine one of the dwarves marital rituals is to re-braid their hair, and your intended being Nori
> 
>  
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/107219015280/imagine-one-of-the-dwarves-marital-rituals-is-to
> 
>    
> Because I can only imagine the hell and torment that hair was to make for those costume designers.

 

            In the Shire you and Bilbo had been the pinnacle of what was respectable and Baggins. You never missed a meal, you visited family and friends regularly for tea, you even dealt with the Bracegirdles with the civility and propriety they were due, though they sure as rain was wet didn’t deserve it. Your strawberry rhubarb pie had won as many ribbons at the fair as Bilbo’s tomatoes. Neither of you were ever seen with a button undone or a hair out of place.

            And then a bakers dozen of dwarves had popped into your lives and you were running off with your brother after them in trousers, riding ponies, exchanging cooking recipes with trolls, riding _eagles_ , slaying spiders, and running from elves.

            Oh, and you were engaged to a thief.

            There was a strong argument to be made that drastic times and adrenaline had been what led to yours and Nori’s initiating a ‘romance’. Actually, it wasn’t so much an argument as a stone cold fact as you’d raced to the star-haired dwarf after getting separated in the Mountains and laid one right on him. The slick bastard had been flirting with you since tumbling into your foyer and was properly smug about the return on his time and effort. You’d been doing rather well in keeping your wits about you and ignoring the flirt. Nothing you weren’t used to… except that you weren’t used to it. At least not this brand.

            Hobbits, when they flirted with you, complimented your food and your smial’s cleanliness, or the way your dress’s were cleaned and pressed or perfectly complimentary to your figure if they were being a bit risqué. Nori didn’t give a damn about your perfect piecrust, other than to moan appreciatively as he bit into it. He didn’t seem concerned with the dirt in your hair or on your trousers and shirt. What Nori noticed were those things about yourself that you’d actually always secretly hoped someone _would_ notice about you. He’d laugh at your small asides when Thorin was being dense or Gandalf was being ‘mystic’. He appreciated your knowledge of the forest and the different plants that could and shouldn’t be eaten. He’d noticed your interest in the daggers he carried and encouraged you to ask questions, even taught you to throw them, celebrating with you when you managed to fell your first target. None of these things were proper, none of these quirks were appropriate or of interest to the hobbits that had followed you around in the Shire. But they made you feel like you were more than just a cook and cleaning lady.

            Yes, Nori appreciated the ‘cut’ in your clothes; you’d caught his gaze traveling over the dips and curves of your figure on more than one occasion. The letch didn’t even have the decency to look abashed at being caught; he’d just smile that appreciative smile of his and continue with his perusal. His obvious want and his enjoyment in letting you see his interest made you quite… bothered, as it were. There were nights you’d have to slip off and… take care of yourself after particularly heated interactions with the dwarf. But more than anything else he seemed to be fascinated with your hair, of all things. The color and texture. You’d get the distinct impression that he was barely restraining himself from reaching up and diving his nimble fingers right into it. A suspicion that was swiftly proven true when you and Bilbo came careening into the clearing the lot of them had gathered after escaping the mountain. You’d taken one look at the pure relief in his face and flounced up to claim his mouth as your own, and he’d reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair just as quickly. Afterwards it became habit to feel his hands trailing through your hair and over your scalp. It has gotten to the point you can’t sleep without feeling him carding through your locks and feel off if he hasn’t done it throughout the day. It was odd but very refreshing, and you found it charming and sweet.

            Of course, it wasn’t too long till you finally found out _exactly_ what about your hair was so enthralling.

            After the mess that happened in Mirkwood with the Spiders and getting separated from the dwarves, you’d been caught by the elves and kept in a completely separate wing of the dungeons from them. It had taken Bilbo weeks to find you and then a few more to finally work out a way to get you all out. Upon seeing you after so long and the terror of nearly loosing each other to those nasty pests the thief had grabbed you up and demanded you marry him. As soon as possible. Which you happily agreed to do, once you got the _hell_ out of this dungeon.

            The barrel ride should have been a form of foreshadowing. The trouble with Bard as well. But, finally, you found yourselves ensconced in a house the Master had loaned you, properly clean for the first time in ever and ready to enjoy your intended to the best of your abilities before Thorin fed you and your brother to a dragon.

            It was, of course, then that Balin decided to give you a small crash course in dwarrow culture.

            Nori hadn’t refastened his hair after his bath. Instead letting most of it fall around him and yourself as you both sat beside the fire touching and holding on to one another. It was as Nori was running his fingers through your hair again that the advisor came bustling up to you both, “Would you like to begin the ceremony this evening then Nori? Y/N?”

            You blinked as the thief nodded and reached for the comb the advisor had produced for him. He turned you around and began brushing out your dried hair, laying kisses on each tress, as it was untangled. It was comforting and sweet, but very confusing. What ceremony was he performing?

            Something in your face must have resonated with Balin for in the next minute he was elucidating, “Lass, you may have noticed how we dwarrow take… particular care of our beards and hair.”

            You nodded as Nori kept up his tending, “Yes, it’s all very intricate and quite spectacular.” A grumble from behind you made you shiver, as the dwarf seemed to purr at the compliment.

            Balin nodded happily as he continued, “It is a very large part of our culture, our hair. The braids themselves tell a tale as plainly as Dwalin’s inkings. Depending on the style and types of braids they can indicate your status or rank. You’ll rarely find a dwarf that hasn’t tended their hair and beard with some form of adornment.”

            Your eyes narrowed at the advisor’s explanation as you swiveled about to see your dwarf separating your hair into lengths for some nonsense he’d cooked up. “Is that why you can’t leave my hair alone?”

            The smirk he sent you was lascivious as he continued with his work, “Ye’ve pretty hair lass. It’s carelessly beautiful, and untamed glory. Just like the hobbit it belongs to.” He reached forward and took your clenched hand at the end of that and held it between you, staring you right in the eye as he spoke lowly, “Painfully beautiful,” he kissed one knuckle, “frighteningly passionate,” another, “uniquely extravagant,” another, “and possessed of a strong, unbreakable will.” He laid one last kiss, to your final knuckle, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft yet impassioned kiss.

            You were a bit breathless, as you turned back to Balin, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

            The advisor had glanced away during your little aside but was back to his teaching position as he cleared his throat and continued, “When a dwarrow has decided to take a mate, the first ceremony in their binding is the braiding and tending of each other’s hair. As you can see, Nori has begun to do so to yours. When he is finished it will be up to you to complete the ceremony and either accept or deny his claim.”

            You sat stock still for a moment, feeling the small tugs of Nori running through your hair, taming it into a trio of braids that started at your scalp and worked its way down. You turned wide eyes on the older dwarf and demanded, “How… how do I do that exactly?” praying to whatever being that still might be listening to you that you were wrong.

            “Should you accept, you tend to his hair in return. You would braid and groom him in the fashion he is familiar, preferably with some change that would indicate your personal touch and claim,” Balin nodded as he finished his explanation watching you for your reaction.

            Turning to see Nori finished and standing at your side, watching you closely for your reaction, hair a disaster you turned back to the advisor, “You can’t be serious.”

            Balin nodded solemnly, “Indeed I am lass.”

            Turning back to Nori, who merely perked a half braided, completely frayed eyebrow at you, you put your most deadpan face on and replied, “We may have to call this off.”

            The thief bursts into laughter as Balin stood gaping at the slight from the hobbit. You smirked a touch as you sighed and dragged your irreverent intended over to sit on the floor between your legs as you sat on what the Men must think of as a _very_ low table and began to comb through the disaster. It was made an even longer process as your thief kept trailing his hands up and down your legs, sneaking further beneath your skirts to tickle your knees and thighs. And when he started turning into your plump thighs to dapple kisses to the inseam the pair of you had to beat a hasty retreat to a bedroom before your caved his head in from clenching it so tightly.


	6. Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your clothing being blown away in a strong breeze while you’re bathing in a river just as you hear footsteps coming towards you. Suddenly, you hear Bofur’s voice; ‘Are you done yet, lass?’
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/113519841483/imagine-your-clothing-being-blown-away-in-a-strong
> 
> Imagine giving Bofur the surprise of his life by grabbing him by the earflaps of his hat, and giving him a great big kiss
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/113514167756/imagine-giving-bofur-the-surprise-of-his-life-by
> 
> Imagine Bofur and his hat being the only things that stand between you and totally exposing yourself to the company by some clothing related mishap
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/113540063212/imagine-bofur-and-his-hat-being-the-only-things
> 
> The more prompts I fill with one story the better I feel

            Limits.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            The physical world was comprised of limits. There was a limit to how much sunlight could shine on a clover patch, how much clover a rabbit could eat, how fast a rabbit could run, how may rabbits a hobbit could fit in a pie, how much pie could fit in a hobbit, how many hobbits could fit at a table, how big of a table could fit in a smial, and so on. Even a creature comprised of divine patience and grace, endowed in every virtue the all knowing and all powerful could comprise, had their limits.

            Unfortunately for you and the Company of one majestic Thorin Oakenshied, you were neither divine nor particularly patient.

            You had also begun to realize exactly how far your own limits were inclined to stretch before they just _snapped_.

            Limits, limits, limits

            It was obvious from the first night you had no business going on this journey. It had been a long day and you’d been hoping to turn in early so that you may recover from living next to Lobelia Bracegirdle. It wasn’t so much that you disliked the child, per say, but if there was anyone in this town that needed to be taken over someone’s knee it was that little shit. Really, she was 22 years old, more than old enough to know better than to run into her neighbor’s garden and pick all the plumpest strawberries to be found. She hadn’t even the decency to wait till the damn things were fully ripe, now you had a half destroyed plot of shriveled berries that wouldn’t even make a decent pie, never mind the jam you’d been hoping for.

            Of course, it wouldn’t have been quite so tedious if, upon being caught she’d apologized or even appeared marginally contrite. But oh no! Not a _Bracegirdle_ , no the little bitch had put on that pinched expression that did nothing so much as make it appear she’d wiped shit under her nose and told you point blank your garden wasn’t near up to par and you should leave it to people who knew what they were doing, like her own mother.

            All in all you thought you’d been remarkably restrained when you’d grabbed the half-grown whelp by the ear and marched her to her mother’s door. And that restraint had paid off by you getting chewed out by yet another insolent creature while the smaller clone watched on in smug satisfaction. You’d decided mid rant that it simply wasn’t worth it and turned back to your own home, indignant yelp from the fusspot a balm to your ticking nerves. Upon entering your smial you’d stress eaten a half a tray of scones and then decided to settle in for the night.

            Of course, then your _other_ neighbor decided to have a bleedin’ _party_ till the wee hours, causing you to not only wake from your slumbers but fall straight out the damn bed scared witless by the loud carrying on. Scowling fiercely you’d marched over to your cousin’s, dressed only in your night robe and clothes and slammed into the smial to give him what for. This turned into the second worst decision of your life as instantly the most incorrigible dwarf you’d ever met with a smile that made your brain malfunction swept you into a jaunty little jig.

            Your worst decision was deciding to sign that damn contract to chase after the bleedin’ fool. Apparently you’d lost your damned mind somewhere between feeling large, warm hands wrap around your waist and staring up into a beaming grin. You weren’t all that sure you wanted it back.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            So you had a relatively low one when it came to ruggedly handsome males with ridiculous laughing brown eyes. You lived and learned.

            Or you damned well hoped you’d live. As time passed with these foul tempered beasts Bilbo and yourself had agreed to help you were questioning that likelihood. And by the time the Trolls happened you’d met the sharp edge of another couple of parameters that held you together as a hobbit and a person.

            You found you drew the line for cleanliness at being used as a troll snotrag. Mucus was now officially the worst body fluid you could think of.

            The irony that even a _troll_ knew the advantage of a handkerchief did not escape you either.

            Since there was really only one dwarf who’s body you were in any way, shape, or form, wanting to see, you swiftly reached your quota for hairy asses as the brainless oafs strung a number of you up for roasting.

            And somewhere between wizards storming off like spent tweens, dwarf kings shouting at you for being a lag about, and trolls calling you a ferret, the part of your mind you set aside for dealing with idiots was stomped into the ground and ground into fine dust.

            So when Thorin tried to make you all move out to find a nasty, filth ridden troll cave you were no longer responsible for your actions.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            After the blistering you’d given Thorin he’d wandered off muttering something about crazy female Halflings and you’d marched towards the small stream that you’d been camping by the night before. You’d been in the cool water long enough it felt warm and been scrubbing so hard you were potentially bleeding in places. Skin grew back though so you weren’t concerned. Your nose would never forget the smell that had permeated the layers anyway.

            You’d not even bothered with the clothes. They were unsalvageable. Thankfully you’d taken three changes of clothes when you and Bilbo had run off after this lot. So you weren’t too concerned. At least, not until you left the stream and realized some rather intolerably strong breeze had taken off with your clean clothes and tossed everything into the heights of the trees surrounding the alcove.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            You were just standing there glaring at your truant skivvies when you heard a small clamor making its way from the direction the rest of the Company had went off in search of their nasty little cave.

            “Ye done yet, lass? Ye’ve been a whiles now and the lads are gettin’ a bit worr…ied,” Bofur’s query trailed off at the end as he finally came into view of you and your predicament. The dwarf was as still as you’d ever seen him, frozen in place just at the edge of the small clearing. Well, mostly frozen, his mouth had snapped shut on him and his neck seemed to indicate some rather desperate attempts to clear it of something. His eyes also seemed to have some trouble settling as they trailed over you from hairy feet to curly head and down again. They were wider than was probably healthy and they’d gone from that yummy chocolate color to something a good deal darker.

            You noted the dwarf had also seemed to miss a few buttons on his shirt in his redressing attempts, so while he was curling his gaze over your body your own seemed to zero in on some tantalizingly dark, soft looking chest hair. And the remarkably hard looking, probably quite warm skin it covered.

            A shiver traveled down your head to the tips of your toes. Your flesh goosed a bit and you felt your nipples pinch in something between pain and pleasure.

            Bofur seemed to notice as well if his sharp intake of breath was anything to go by.

            You shivered once more.

            You blamed the breeze.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            With a deep, centering breath you counted to ten. Then ten again. Once more. And nope!

            Bofur’s eyes got wider, surprisingly, as you swiveled on your toes and began to amble over to him. Suddenly his dark eyes were occupied on almost every blade of grass that wasn’t in you immediate vicinity and his internal struggle with his vocal chords was finally sorted out, “Lass! I didn’t- I mean I wouldn’t- Ach lass, I’m sorry! Iff’d I’d known ye weren’t… well. I mean I wasn’ lookin’- not that I wouldn’ want to- I mean I –”

            He was achingly adorable as the rest of his face turned a concerning red and he held his hands out at his side, flailing a bit as if trying to shoo away any misdoing or insult. His eyes were firmly shut as he shook his head back and forth, nearly upending his hat in the process. He only stopped the flailing when you stood directly in front of him and trailed a small chilled hand over the very furry and very warm chest at your disposal. He jerked his head up and looked at the top of your head, being as you were quite a bit shorter than him. You felt as his heart stuttered under your palm and his breathing stopped. You sighed a bit as you took your hand off his chest and began to button up the rest of his shirt as you spoke once more, “Really, Master Dwarf. You’re quite the distraction.”

            You saw his neck bob as he swallowed, right before you met his gaze. His eyes were still darker than usual but the blush had seemed to recede a bit, making way for a more intense emotion by the looks of it. Bofur opened his mouth to say something, you supposed, but in the next instant you’d gone on your tiptoes and grabbed the flaps on his much-abused hat and dragged his mouth down to your own.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            Too many near death experiences, too much watching from the corner of your eye. You’d spent the majority of this ridiculous trip fantasizing what it would be like to have him right where you had him and you weren’t about to let the chance pass you by. So you coaxed his mouth open with your nibbling bites and persistent tongue till he gasped, allowing you access to taste him proper. It was a heady experience; the taste of his preferred leaf and the textures enticed you. Before you could draw back, curiosity sated, you felt work roughened hands trail up and down your smooth back, sending shivers through you at the most desired heat, and pushing you flush against the body warmed cloth that covered his broad, strong chest. You pulled harder on the flaps of the hat as he started to take the lead in your mutual exploration, sneaking in to taste and tease your own mouth and nibbling color into you bottom lip.

            Before too long you both needed to breath and came away from each other, Bofur leaning down to press his forehead onto your own as you both caught up, though his hands never ceased in their petting, sending quivers through you all the while. Finally, you looked up at the dwarf and nipped at his lips once more before removing his hat from his head and skipping out of his arms, “I’ll be borrowing this, thank you very much.” In the next moment you were storming through the undergrowth back to camp.

            Once there you used the hat as a guard against your nakedness and marched over to your pack, digging for another pair of trousers and a tunic. Finding a shirt you slipped it over your head, the length falling to a bit above your knees and taking the hats job of keeping you semi-decent. It was only then that you glanced up and acknowledged the rest of the Company.

            Limits, limits, limits.

            Upon your entrance into the clearing Thorin had taken one look at you traipsing in half naked with a ridiculous fur lined hat for a barrier and dropped his head back to his hands with a small muttered “Mahal.” From the looks of the way he was massaging his temple he was fighting a fierce headache.

            Fíli and Kíli had just stopped in their tracks and stared as you passed them and began rummaging through your bag. Their eyes were a little glazed and their mouths were gaping like landed fish.

            Balin and Dwalin, seeing their King’s discomfit turned to see what the problem was. The elder looked away hastily and began smacking at the stupefied younglings. Dwalin roared after your uninterested form, “Wat the ‘ell happened to yer clothes lass?!”

            Well, that bellow had everyone else glancing towards their returned hobbit.

            Bilbo took one look at your face and instantly covered his face as his shoulder’s started shaking in mirth. He understood better than anyone what it looked like when you were quite thoroughly _done._

            Óin and Glóin saw you and instantly started roaring in laughter as Bofur came back into the clearing, hot on your tail with some very curious damp markings on the front of his shirt.      Nori came up beside the still slightly gob smacked miner and smacked him on the shoulder, “Fast work their brother! Didn’t think you had it in ye,” Bofur instantly turned that unhealthy red color once more.

            Ori had barely managed to see the hat before Dori was slapping his hands over the youth’s eyes and growling after her, “ _I never!_ This is _completely_ improper! How could…” and then started carrying on though no one was rightfully attentive, still wondering just what the hell happened and what you were going to do about it.

            Bifur and Bombur both watched as you dropped the hat and then went after their family member. Based on the tone you assumed there was some scolding happening, as you couldn’t understand that growling language of theirs.

            Once you’d squirmed yourself into your pants, you turned back to the hat, picked it up and stropped over to Bofur. You pushed past his brother and cousin and smiled as you placed the hat back on his disheveled head, “Thank you very much for the loan Master Bofur. It was very kind of you.” Then you reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek before turning about-face and glaring at Gandalf where he stood, trying and failing to not smirk, next to a confused and frightful looking little man. “Now then, who’s this one and do I even _want_ to know what he gets up to with all these rabbits?”

            Limits, dear. Everybody had them.


	7. I Mustache You to Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Dis, Thorin and Kili walking in on you and Fili having sex after Erebor is reclaimed
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/113373010530/imagine-dis-thorin-and-kili-walking-in-on-you-and
> 
> Imagine Fili getting annoyed whenever you mess with his moustache beads
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/110547436918/imagine-fili-getting-annoyed-whenever-you-mess
> 
> Because I wanted to rip those things off his face the entire damn movie

            You knew better.

            It was as simple as that.

            You’d followed these idiot dwarves across a continent. You’d seen what happened when any of them had what they considered a ‘good idea’. Really that’s all the entire past year had been, a reaffirmation that these people were incapable of self-preservative thought. Gandalf thought it would be fun to take a continent length jaunt with a pair of good little hobbits and a baker’s dozen dwarrow. Óin and his portents. Glóin and his solid support of said portents. You still weren’t sure Bofur had read anything beyond ‘free beer’ before signing the contract. Ori with his romantic notions of royalty and conquest. Nori with his ill fated flirting and wooing of Dwalin. Dwalin and his insistence on tying his lot to the majestic majesty of Durinfolk. Thorin, as their leader, was probably the worse offender, coming up with the brilliant plan to _taunt_ a mountain sized lizard into roasting the floating kindling previously known as Esgaroth. I mean really? When Fíli suggested the pair of you should sneak off for some quiet time together in your rooms you should have instantly told his silly ass to go take a long walk off a short pier.

            Unfortunately, stupid was catching, and you hadn’t had time alone with your intended since before the Great Delousing, or so you’d taken to referring to the elaborate game of tag you and the Company had engaged to get rid of the great fire breathing calamity. The Battle had happened so soon after, and then Fíli had been healing from his stint as an orc’s marionette. The months after had been a blur of rebuilding, situating the incoming dwarrow, and meeting the Lady Dís (just as majestic as Thorin and ten times scarier). And that was _before_ you’d agreed to become Fíli’s ‘princess’ as he was fond of calling you now.

            The pair of you had gotten on very well during the quest. He’d helped you learn to control that blasted pony, how to ensure the pointy end of your sword ended up in the other guy’s belly at least twice as often as it ended up in your foot, and mostly kept you from turning back to the Shire the entire trip. The Trolls had been a close thing but the idiot’s cheeky grin had caused your stomach to flip as you continued to trail after him like some silly twitterpated puppy. At first it seemed he’d been more amused than anything at your clear infatuation, then doubly so at the amount of malice you showed towards said infatuation. It was in Mirkwood that you realized he was maybe a bit more attached to you than even he wanted to admit, and by the time you were supposed to pose as dragon bait he’d about committed patricide to keep you out of the dragon’s maw. After the battle and everything was settling you’d had a chat about your mutual feelings and had begun to approach this evolution in your relationship. Bilbo had remained with you in Erebor as a proper chaperone and your eldest male relative, so when Fíli had decided to start talk about marriage and betrothals last week your cousin had been more than ready to take on the rest of the Durin clan.

            Some days you thought the only reason Fíli had even suggested you become betrothed was so you would have the promise of _future_ time together. And that was _before_ you had been engaged. After the announcement had been made the ‘chaperoning’ had become as stupid as ridiculous could get. You weren’t allowed within three feet of the dwarf without someone circling like an addled, cock-blocking vulture. This made the previous conversations and ‘activities’ you’d be engaging in impossible. Thus, when Fíli came up with the bright idea to sneak off for a while during the preparations for the engagement dinner you hadn’t exactly been thinking with your head.

            Now, agreeing with Fíli had been your first mistake. Your second mistake was allowing him to take you back to your chambers under the delusion that all you’d be doing is chatting, maybe some cuddling and that’s all. But even if things had stopped at the level they usually did, with your lips kiss bruised and his hair a bit mused from your eager fingers, things would have been fine, if not _completely_ decent. Alas, all things good and bad tended to happen in threes.

            You were sitting in Fíli’s lap as he trailed his hands up and down your shoulders and arms, his lips were preoccupied with the tender flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder and you were happily quivering from the attentions. You smiled dreamily as you turned his face up to lay a tender peck to his lips when you felt his braids tickling the sides of your mouth. With a slightly wicked smile you reached up and snagged his mustache braids.

            “Oh for the love of… Y/N!” Fíli’s exasperation always tickled you as he fell back to the headboard. You smiled wider and followed after him, hiking your skirt up a bit to straddle his leg so you could face him while you twanged the beads together. He reached up and grabbed your hands as you clutched his abused follicles, “ _Why_ must you do this? Please don’t misunderstand, I encourage you to become enthralled with any and every part of me,” he accompanied this statement with his self assured little smirk he had apparently perfected as a child, “but this _particular_ preoccupation is just… disturbing.”

            You rolled your eyes at this self-assured dwarrow you were binding yourself to, “It’s hardly my fault you’ve decided to frame my favorite part of you with these ridiculous drapes.”

            His eyes had gotten a bit heated at the beginning of your statement, only for his expression to fall into something this side of irritated as you once again squirreled you hands out of his grasp and snagged the beads again. You couldn’t keep back the chuckles at the clearly unimpressed expression on your prince. Shaking in mirth as you were you didn’t see the truly sinister look on the dwarf’s face a moment before he jerked himself straight and pulled you flush to him, claiming your laughing mouth in a punishing kiss.

            Yavanna knew you were one to give as good as you got, so it was no real surprise the battle was fierce and heady as you dropped his mustache in favor of dragging his head closer by his longer locks. As your nails scratched into his scalp the prince’s body rumbled as he groaned in appreciation, the vibrations reverberating in you, causing your stomach to clench in it’s own interest. You were shifting closer and closer as you continued to comb through his hair, nipping at his lips and pulling at his tresses as you pushed your skirt higher and your torso higher on his lap. As his heavy hands stroked the silky soft skin of your upper thighs you twirled you hips, grinding down reflexive seeking a release to this charged pressure building between you.

            Fíli had you thrown over the bed in the next instant, panting after you as he drew his hands over your clothed body. He gave you a sharp bite to the neck as he trailed over your breasts and stomach, hiking you up a bit to free the fabric from your skirts. In one smooth motion he was ripping at the buttons on your tunic as he trailed his lips up your stomach, exposed from the previous pawing. Your head fell back, hanging off the mattress as you quivered and gasped at the feeling of stubble and the sharp little bites caused you to squirm and moan. The golden lad growled viciously when his fingers were frustrated in their task by his sudden impatience and your own undulations as you tried to plaster yourself to him once more. He reared back to rip the tunic open, buttons scattering to the floor, revealing plump breasts to his hungry gaze. He trailed his hands down your chest, over your breasts and waist, the callouses from his years wielding and working sending shivers through you and catching on your smooth skin. In the next second he had his hands clenched under you on your ass and trailing down to your thighs, which he spread wide and tugged up and over his own, around his waist. The tiny yip you gave at the sudden movement caused a self-assured smirk on the prince. One which was wiped away in the next second as you wrapped your thighs tightly around his waist and used the new leverage to rub up and onto the stone hard rod that was throbbing with need for you.

            The growl he gave now was feral as he leaned back over his intended and wrapped a hand over one plump orb as he feasted on the second. Your curls trailed onto the floor as your head fell back and thrashed over the edge of the bed and you keened into the room, fingers digging sharply into the prince’s scalp, encouraging his ministrations.

            A particularly electrifying little nip at your nipple caused a purely unholy yowl out of you eyes opening wide, pupils blown so wide your eyes were practically black with desire. And just in time, as your head was on the side of the bed with the best view of the door to the bedroom. It would have been the height of rudeness had you not seen your next batch of unwanted guests burst into your room, weapons at the ready. The next noise you made was strangled and terrified, causing Fíli to snap to attention and curse as he saw his family stream into the room.

            Kíli came in fast and furious… and first. He stopped half into the room and was thrown to the floor as his mother and uncle trampled in after him. The lad hadn’t taken his popped eyes off your bared breasts even after the tumble. It was this almost as much as the slack jawed looks Thorin was giving you that had Fíli growling and leaning down to drag your suddenly completely dumbstruck self to his chest, his arms preserving as much of your honor as he could before he managed to drag the shredded shirt back over your body.

            Dís was not half as tongue tied or enthralled with your bust as her male relations, “WHAT IN THE FORGE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

            Let it never be said Fíli missed the opportunity to be a little shit, “I would think it was rather obvious what we were doing mother.” You squeaked again and burrowed your face into his shoulder as you tried to burry yourself into Fíli’s very _being_ to escape this room and situation.

            The sass got Thorin to come out of his trance at least as the King drew himself up and roared into the room, “YOU’VE BARELY BEGUN YOUR COURTSHIP! DID YOU EVEN THINK WHAT THE MOUNTAIN WAS GOING TO SAY WHEN THEIR CROWN PRINCE BEDDED HIS INTENDED A MERE FORTNIGHT AFTER OFFICIATING THE ENGAGEMENT?!”

            “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT YOU?! ABOUT HER?!” Dís’s voice was loud and vicious as she slammed her war hammer down on her still bedazzled youngest. With a yelp Kíli came back to the world, scrambling to his feet in the process, rubbing at his very much in pain head.

            Fíli growled at the implication his mother was making about your honor and roared into the room, “SHOULD _ANYONE_ SAY _ANYTHING_ ABOUT Y/N I’LL CUT THEIR TONGUES OUT MYSELF!”

            “There are protocol and customs that need to be followed!” Dís continued in a calmer voice, seeing the mess this conversation was spiraling into. She also began to notice you were still alarmingly unclothed and probably _baking_ in embarrassment. With a heavy stare at her son she began to turn, “Get dressed and we’ll continue this discussion at dinner.”

            You could feel Fíli nod sharply as his mother and uncle moved to leave, only for his mother to sigh the sigh of the weary and completely unimpressed as Kíli remained standing and fixed, once more, on your form. Fíli growled at the lad but it was Dís grabbing his ear and throwing him from the room with it that had him yelping in pain and protest. You continued to ignore the world in favor of burrowing your heated face in your intended’s neck, “Y/N? It’s all right, they’re gone.”

            Suddenly you rocketed out of his neck and arms, damn near made it across the bed as you announced in as nonchalant a tone you could manage, which was not at all seeing you were breathless with horror and squeaking with embarrassment, “Well, it’s been fun! Really, a _beautiful_ engagement. I’m sure your next intended won’t be quite so stupid as to leave the _door unlocked_. Just try not to make her an elf would you? I’m not sure I’d take being replaced by one of those pointy-eared bastards very well. Not that I really have a say in it but you know how I can get.”

            You had almost rolled off the bed when your knees were seized and the prince dragged you backwards on your stomach. In the next instant you were in a rather familiar state with Fíli pressed tightly against you, pinning you to the sheets, “You’re not going anywhere.” How could he be smiling like that after _everything_ that just happened?

            Twin golden brow quirked and his mustache beads quivered a bit as he smirked down at you, “I guarantee they’ve caught me in far more embarrassing positions than this Y/N.”

            Apparently you’d said that out loud, “You have no shame.”

            “And you love it.”

            With a heaving sigh you let most of your earlier embarrassment settle down. The rest flew right out the window when your prince leaned in and claimed your mouth in a tender kiss once more. It was growing a bit heated, his well trained hands trailing up your once again exposed sides, when he was suddenly jumping away from you like a startled cat, yowling included as you were both _drenched_ in icy cold water.

            You lay there a few moments after watching your lover chase Kíli’s laughing form from the room wondering how this was your life before rolling over and finding something dry to wear. Preferably about five layers of something dry. You weren’t sure you’d ever be naked again.

            Fíli proved you very much wrong later that very same evening.


	8. Near Sighted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine having to explain nearsightedness to the dwarves after loosing your glasses
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/113302370849/imagine-having-to-explain-nearsightedness-to-the
> 
> I’m a violent person

              “Little One!” Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum suddenly chorused, appearing on either side of you, slamming their arms around your back and jostling your being with their combined weight and strength. Not too shabby since Kíli and Fíli were indeed quite stunning for a pair of mangy dwarves but not good for you in the long run as the rough behavior sent your glasses skittering onto the ground, and in the next instant Buttercup, your pony, stomped them back into the sand that had created them.

              You’d been traveling with the Company for a week now. You don’t know how or why you got there. You’re assuming you pissed off some all-powerful being. Probably because you told Joey Super bowl Sunday could suck it. Either way. You were in Middle Earth. You were wearing someone else’s clothes. You were a hobbit.

              You’d managed to land in this miserable existence just as the quest was beginning. Apparently Bilbo had just managed to catch up the group and sign in for the cross-country derby of a lifetime. Now, you enjoyed Tolkien and the movies, but you weren’t stupid enough to ever think you’d enjoy _living_ it. You were a city girl for Christ’s sake. The closest thing to wildlife you got was a squirrel and the nearest thing to ‘The Wilds’ in Brooklyn was Sunset Park. So no, thank you. Not the adventure for you.

              Only it apparently was. And now you were even tinier than you had originally been, seeing as the powers that be translated tiniest human to walk 46th and 8th with hobbit! Which was why the ‘cute’ dwarves had taken to calling you ‘little one’. They thought it was cute and funny. You thought it was obnoxious and disturbing, though it was the least of what they did to you. You were apparently unlike any female in all creation with your smart mouth and less than impressed attitude. So they’d decided teasing and tormenting you was oh so much fun! If you were being honest with yourself this was the least jarring thing that had happened to you since coming to this place, as it was very reminiscent of the way you and your brothers got along back home. But you weren’t being honest with yourself, you were still very much upset you were there in the first place, scared out of your wits half the time, the other half dreading what you knew was going to happen in a matter of days? Weeks? Why the hell couldn’t Tolkien _or_ Jackson given a damn timeline for this shit?!

              And now, on top of all that, you were now blind.

              “NO! DAMNIT! Do you have any idea what you’ve done!” you shrieked as you stooped down to see if anything was salvageable. You groaned as you picked up the shattered remains or your bent frames. If you wanted to play at being a Middle Earth Hipster you were half way there, but seeing was not an option anymore, apparently.

              “We’re sorry Y/N, we didn’t mean to damage your eyewear,” Fíli announced in trepidation as Kíli flinched and grabbed the glasses from you to send them through his own inspection.

              With a long suffering sigh you let the anger flow into the tiny corner of your mind you figured would form a tumor in the next seven years or so as the repressed rage continued to build and looked at the pair with a forced smile, “It’s fine. It was an accident. I’ll deal.”

              They didn’t really get most of your colloquialisms but that one was simple enough. Fíli accepted the spectacles from Kíli for his own inspection, “We’ll make it up to you.”

              Kíli’s face suddenly lit up as he beamed down at you, “I’ll teach you to use a bow! You don’t haven’t shown us any weapons and I doubt that mist you have will last against a horde of Orcs.”

              He was referring to your mace, which you had sprayed Dwalin with upon first waking up to seeing him looming over your unconscious form. Girlhood 101, mace is your friend. You should also try carrying a Taser and pocketknife for similar emergencies, both of which were actually in your backpack that had come along with you for the ride. Your mace hung from your keychain, which you’d been clutching as you’d been trying to get into your car when you suddenly found yourself laying on the ground with the Company staring at you.

              But back to Kíli who seemed to be missing the concept that surrounded the glasses, “I can’t shoot a bow, Kíli. I can’t see anymore. My glasses got smashed.”

              “What do you mean you can’t see it?” the elder prince looked suddenly _very_ concerned as he turned to you and started monitoring your eyes.

              Another world-weary sigh, “I’m nearsighted.”

              “What’s that?” Kíli asked next as he stepped closer and started waving his hand in your face.

              “It means I can’t see things far away. Would you _stop_ that!” you growled as you grabbed the hand.

              The lad seemed to brighten at the contact, his hand grasping yours a bit in return as his impish grin came out to play, “So you’re blind?”

              Unfortunately for him, you _really_ weren’t in the mood to enjoy the light kidding as you very much _felt_ that way, even if you weren’t technically so. As a result, when you reared your unoccupied fist back and punched him in the eye he really wasn’t expecting it, “Are you blind? No? Is everything blurry? Welcome to my world.”

              As you stomped off, leaving Fíli to tend his brother Nori popped up at your side and wrapped a calming arm around your shoulders, “Nice hook there, love. Why don’t ye come sit wit me an’ Ori. Lad’s been wantin’ ta talk with ye about kindling all day.”

              You snorted a bit as you let yourself be led towards the Ri’s, blatantly ignoring the completely unmanly giggles coming from Dwalin and Glóin, “It’s called a Kindle and I’d love to.”


	9. Bruno Mars is at Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine the company trying to come up with nicknames for everyone
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/112423611318/imagine-the-company-trying-to-come-up-with
> 
> Because I could

            This shit had been going on since you’d made the mistake of mentioning the concept ‘code names’ to the princely pair.

            The Company had found you, cold, confused, and concussed. Your transition from the Real World to Middle Earth hadn’t been pleasant. For one thing there were a lot more trees and tree limbs than you’d ever hoped there’d be. Not that this was a fuckin’ dream come true. More like an unrealized nightmare.

            Gandalf had recognized something weird about you and mentioned something about Eru or Ewe and you didn’t know or care. In the end he made the dwarves take you with them, which made _everyone_ thrilled with your presence.

            Oh, and you were a hobbit. So that happened.

            It was complete bullshit. You didn’t even get to be taller than anyone. You were shorter than Bilbo for Christ’s sake!

            Bilbo had been happy to have you at first, and then you’d scandalized his sensibilities by telling him to tell Thorin to get boned and leave him alone.

            Bilbo didn’t talk with you all that much anymore.

            But the boys did. Then the younger dwarves thought you were a hoot. And were really curious about your ways and people and things.

            Of course that’s how you found yourself in this situation. Three Trolls, a bunch of elves, a bunch of goblins, a bunch of orcs, a bunch of eagles, and one big ass rock later, you were about to die from a brain aneurism listening to this shit:

            “No! Thorin would be something like Oaken, or One of Seven.”

            “It’s too obvious! It needs to be subtler like… Mithril Rivers.”

            “He’s not a dam Fíli!”

            “Well at least it’s not basically his _title_ with some words missing Kíli!”

            “You’re just –”

            “That’s it!” you shout as you turn around and glare at the lads. Just as they begin to get themselves ready for some kind of scuffle you announced, “I will be known as ‘Gonna Give It To Ya’.”

            Before the laughter from that could fully dissolve you pointed at Thorin and continued louder, “Thorin, you are ‘Eagle One’!” the King merely looked at you deadpanned as you moved on to the next dwarf. He shakes his head before laying it in his hands as he listened to you continue.

            “Fíli is ‘Baby Bird’,” you completely ignored the disgruntled yelp of the heir, blowing by and onto the next dwarf.

            “Dwalin, you’re ‘Been There Done That’.”

            “Oy!” The wilds are no place for soft creatures indeed.

            “Bilbo, you are ‘Currently Doing That’.” The hobbit just shrugged and nodded in acceptance of the truth in the statement, offering Thorin a generous pull from his pipe to calm the King’s nerves.

            “Kíli! It Happened Once In A Dream,” you tried not to laugh at the please expression on the youngest Durin as he mocked his brother.

            “Gandalf, ‘If I Had To Pick A Wizard’.” The Grey Pilgrim grumbled under his breath and stole the pipe from Thorin.

            The rest of the lads were in a mixture of disgruntled, disturbed and laughing. Dori was fully disapproving, “This is absolutely ridiculous! I’ll not sit here and be – ”

            “Dori! You’re ‘White Gold’!”

            The eldest Ri stopped mid rant and preened a bit at the clear compliment, stroking his elaborately braided hair, “Oh, well then. This could be great fun.”

            You smirked as you turned to Ori, “You’ll be ‘Good Girls.’”

            This had the prince’s cackling all the harder as they fell over to the grumbling scribe where he sat furiously writing in his journal. You didn’t imagine you were going to be painted in a positive light during the retelling of this quest. Ah, well. Moving on, “Glóin! ‘Kiss Myself’.”

            “The ‘ell you on about lass!? I’m a married dwarf!!!” the red head howled over the laughing lads.

            Exercising your highly honed skills of not giving a fuck you pointed to Bifur and announced, “Bifur is now ‘I’m So Pretty.”

            Bifur puffed up at that and nodded, even as Dori scowled and sent you a queer look.

            “Bofur! You’re ‘Too Hot’!”

            The hatted dwarf blushed a bit and laughed as he bowed to the group. You pointed at Nori. The thief raised one braided brow at you as you smirked, “’Hot Damn’,” and moved on as he howled in laughter.

            “Lass has good taste,” the red head announced as he trailed a finger over his braided eyebrow. Bofur came up and clapped him on the shoulder. The pair were quickly bowled over by Bifur’s over enthusiastic agreement.

            “Addled’s what she is,” Dwalin grumbled where he and Glóin were nursing their hurt feelings.

            You weren’t done, “Óin! ‘Say My Name’!”

            The deaf dwarf looked at you confused, “Eh? What’d she say? You know who I am lass!”

            You turned on Bombur, “You’re now, ‘Stop! Wait A Minute’.” He looked up at you a minute, nodded, and went back to munching on some stale bread he’d found on his person.

            Finally you turned to the last of the Company, “Balin’s code name is…” you trailed off for a second watching the quirked brow on the advisor’s face as he waited for the inevitable. “Eagle Two.”

            “Oh, thank Mahal,” the elder whispered under his breath as he watched Fíli and Kíli come over to you and start ribbing each other.

            “Are you quite finished?” Thorin grumbled as he moved to the front of the group to begin their trek again. As the rest of the group moved to follow you found the princes’ replaced on either side of you by ‘Too Hot’ and ‘Hot Damn’. Both of them grinning at you as your cheeks started glowing a deep pink.

            “Gandalf, how much further till we arrive at this _friends_?”

            “Well, about that…”

***

            _Friend_ indeed. They were racing away from a damned bear the size of a H1 Hummer. The moment it had been spotted roaring after you Bofur and Nori had lifted you up and Bifur had raced under you. Now you were riding the addled warrior’s shoulders like a toddler, away from something that would feature prominently in your nightmares. Even so, you saw a golden opportunity and had to take it.

            “AND THERE’S **IF I HAD TO PICK A WIZARD** IN THE LEAD, FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY **BABY BIRD** AND **TOO HOT**. FOLLOWING UP IS **IT HAPPENED ONCE IN A DREAM** NECK IN NECK WITH **BEEN THERE DONE THAT**. NEXT AROUND THE BEND IS **HOT DAMN** AND **GONNA GIVE IT TO YA** RIDING **I’M SO PRETTY** , FOLLOWED BY… OH HO! LOOK WHAT WE HAVE HERE BILL! AN UPSET IF I’VE EVER SEEN ONE. TALK ABOUT YOUR UNDERDOGS, WE HAVE **STOP! WAIT A MINUTE** BLAZING THE TRAIL. IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S OVER TAKEN **HOT DAMN**. MOVING FORWARD AND _YES_! HE’S TAKEN **BEEN THERE DONE THAT** _AND_ **IT HAPPENED IN A DREAM**. OOH! **TOO HOT** DIDN’T STAND A CHANCE! AND THERE GOES **BABY BIRD**! **IF I HAD TO PICK A WIZARD** BOWED OUT EARLY AND oh shit there’s a wall!” stars came in all _kinds_ of colors when you saw them after hitting a wall at full speed.

***

            It wasn’t a wall.

            It was a door.

            One only a man pure of heart or _clear of head_ could open. So Thorin proved himself to be the one and rightful King of the Idiots.

            On the upside, Beorn was much better about his code name than most of the dwarrow.

            He actually thought Pooh Bear sounded like a nice person he’d like to actually meet one day.

***

            Legolas didn’t seem to appreciate your calling him Scurvy, though Tauriel took your Tony Hawk in stride as she put you into your cell.

            The less said about Thranduil’s reaction to your greeting him as Sparkles the better.

***

            Bard looked concerned when you called him Make A Dragon Wanna Retire before asking if you needed medical attention.

            He was a nice dude.

***

            Smaug did _not_ appreciate being called a Clever Girl. But, really, who gave a damn what he wanted anyway?

            Asshole.

***

            Daín outright laughed when you called him Don’t Believe Me? Just Watch. Then he filled your cup and put some liquor in it.

***

            Azog probably didn’t understand when you called him Uptown Fuck You Up. Didn’t matter. As it turned out you should have called him Ice Cold cause after Thorin got through with him that’s exactly what he was.

            Of course, you had to keep Eagle One from being skewered by Ice Cold by letting the albino illuminati bastard chase you across the lake, but it was worth it when Kíli and Fíli came racing up to you later and thanked you for saving his stupid ass.

            You couldn’t take care of _all_ the Durins, you’d told Tony Hawk where It Happened In A Dream would be and made Currently Doing That follow Baby Bird like a hellhound.

            Then you’d made Too Hot and Hot Damn cuddle you till the screaming stopped.

            War was hell.


	10. Practical Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Kíli pretending to fall off a cliff trying to make you laugh, but you believe his prank and begin to panic
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/112575547602/imagine-kili-pretending-to-fall-off-a-cliff-trying
> 
>  
> 
> I'm a fan of slapstick humor

            The mountains were proving to be about as much fun as a hike through Mordor in the middle of summer. First there’d been the predawn wakeup they’d had to squirrel out of Rivendell, followed by the hard march to reach the damned Mountains and to avoid any possible Elf parties coming after them. Then they’d completely bypassed Gandalf’s instructions to _stay put_ and wait for him at the foot of the Mountain and began climbing the damned thing immediately. Apparently Thorin was quite through with making anything like sense for a while. That hadn’t actually been too bad, but then there’d been the giant stone ants that had attacked them in the night, the weird birds that had pecked the crap out of them as they apparently disturbed their nesting grounds, and a very curious pair of angry, snarling creatures that you still didn’t have a name for but would forever be featuring in your nightmares. Really, how the _hell_ did you get a scorpion tail on a great big cat and then who decided to put _bat wings_ on the nightmare?! You’d thought it would be impossible to top that until the STONE GIANTS popped up and REALLY!? Was it too much to ask that the things chasing you at least be subject to the realm of logic and familiarity?

            Of course, the moment you’d asked for that you’d fallen ass over tea kettle down into goblin town, which was basically the universe sending you a large and vicious _fuck you_. Then the orcs were back, and Thorin had nearly died. All followed by a very nerve-shattering ride courtesy of birds of unnaturally large size, once again thank you Gandalf. So it really shouldn’t have been any kind of surprise when you suddenly lost your complete shit as the Company began to trek down the mini mountain Gandalf oh so usefully informed you was called the Carrock.

            Since they’d picked you and Bilbo up in the Shire the dwarrow you were traveling with had taken a shine to you. Some because you were female, most because you didn’t take any of their shit. Bilbo had been aghast when you’d basically told Bofur to go fuck himself after throwing a piece of his dirty, ratty tunic at you. Bofur had near fallen from his pony laughing so hard and from then on things went surprisingly smoothly, with most of the dwarrow at least. Thorin was a whole different breed and Bilbo’s problem.

            So you’d made fast friends with the Urs, Ori thought you were curious, Glóin said you reminded him of his wife and son, and Nori was teaching you some fun little tricks with a knife and length of wire, and then there were the princes. Fíli and Kíli had adopted you into their duo almost directly after that first day and the three of you would joke and laugh at their nonsense through the trip. Fíli was becoming the big brother you’d never known you wanted, and Kíli was, well, you didn’t know quite what Kíli was becoming but you knew it was something good. You got warm fuzzies whenever he came around to tease you and tweak your curls, and he seemed to go out of his way to ride beside you and help you off and onto your pony… before you’d lost the ponies. Either way, you were growing very fond of the lad, probably too fond, seeing as you were a commoner and a hobbit at that and he was a young dwarf _prince_. But it didn’t seem logic was helping you out. So you both just kept teasing and flirting with each other as the days grew in number and length.

            But that was taking a backseat to the exhaustion you lot were feeling from the numerous near death experiences you’d been having recently. Even so, you were still being flanked by the young Durins as you all leapt and fumbled down the massive stairway that adorned the rock. That was, until Kíli decided he’d gained enough energy to start enjoying life again.

            “Hey guys! What’s thaaah!”

            That scream would be the accompanying soundtrack to the rest of your nightmares for the rest of your miserable little life. It would have been much shorter if Fíli hadn’t reacted so fast after his brother fell and grabbed you by the waist when you’d moved to follow the lad over the ledge screaming his name, “ ** _KÍLI!_** ” You’d been the nearest person to the lad as he suddenly tumbled straight over the ledge of one of the steep steps you’d been working your way down. You’d also been the only one who’d seen the way his eyes had widened a moment before he’d been pin wheeling backwards over the ledge.

            “KÍLI NO!!!” you howled as you kicked and cried and struggled to get loose form Fíli and find the prince. Praying he’d be right there, at the edge so you could pull him up. And if he wasn’t, quite possibly join him at the edge of life and death. But you were a hobbit and Fíli a dwarf warrior, your strength was nothing compared to his and your struggling was making no difference. Eventually the lad just picked you up off the ground and started rocking you as he whispered you name in a somewhat broken voice.

            In the end it was Thorin who ran to the edge, leaning over as he hollered after his fallen nephew, only for his holler to turn into a yelp as the lad reached up from the ledge he’d hopped down to and grasped his braids. The King fell backwards as the lad scrambled back up to their height, laughing the entire time, “Oh, Mahal! You should have heard yourselves!”

            His giggled was cut off by a sharp yelp as Fíli, Thorin and Dwalin all converged and started beaming their idiot in the head for his nonsense, growling at him the whole time. Finally he escaped the circle of retribution and raced over to where you were, hoping to hide from his abusive family. “Bella! Save me!” he yelped as he thrust you forward and cowered behind you, still giggling.

            It took him a minute to realize you hadn’t moved from the place Fíli’d dropped you. “Bella?” Kíli’s brow lowered as his smile dimmed a bit. He grabbed your shoulder and shook it, turning you around to look at him as he clarified, “Hey! Hey Bella! It’s okay! I’m fine!” The light laugh in his voice met a swift death as he finally got a look at your face, suddenly damp with tears. His own eyes widened in terror as he watched your shoulders start shaking and your chest begin heaving as you turned and burrowed into Bofur’s chest where he’d come up beside you once Fee had dropped you, “Bella?”

            “What the hell’d you think was goin’ ta happen!?” Dwalin roared from where he stood having found that the thing in this world that terrified him more than anything else in the world was actually crying womenfolk.

            “It was a fool thing to do Kíli,” Fíli said harshly as he punched his brother’s shoulder and flinched at the raspy sounds coming from their littlest hobbit.

            “What were you thinking?” Bilbo yelped as he stood close to Bofur, grasping your shoulder as they heaved.

            “Thinking?! The lad’s got moss for brains!” Glóin’s grumbled as he shook his head and ground his teeth, the scene making all his fatherly instincts scream as Bofur tried to comfort the wee one.

            “None of you are helping! Would ye shut yer yaps!” Bofur growled as he continued to rub your back and rock your heaving body. It wasn’t doing a damn thing though, you were still leaking and quivering like someone’d just killed your pup right in front of you. He glared over at the idiot boy as he shifted you a bit in his arms, “Well!? What’re ye waitin’ fer? An engraved invitation!? Come here an’ fix yer mess!”

            Kíli jumped like he’d been bit and was by your side in a second, his body tensed and his eyes widening to impossible size as you were all but thrust into his chest. He awkwardly wrapped his hands around you, patting your back and head as you clutched at his front, gasping cries the only thing you could force out your clenched throat, though you kept huffing and gasping so you could say _anything_. The lad seemed to clue into your plans because he suddenly drew you closer, pressed your head to his chest, under his chin as he made shushing noises, “Shh, sh, sh, shhh. It’s okay. Bella, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m here. I’m not leaving you. Not ever.”

            He rocked you and continued to make soft sweet noises at you for a good while but you eventually calmed. Heaving became shallow breathes became deeper ones, the tears stopped and dried, the quivering calmed to twitching to bone tiredness. You were suddenly standing, leaning your weight against the strong support at your front, breathing in the wild scent of the dwarf as you calmed. With one last deep, centering breath, you rubbed your wet face against the cloth beneath you and unclenched your hands from the damp tunic. You turned your puffy face up to find deep brown eyes staring down at you in concern. Strong hands came up to cup your face, thumbs trailing over your cheeks to wash away the damp from under your red eyes. Timidly, you raised a small hand to touch the stubbled cheek. A small smile graced the prince’s face as you trailed a hand over it, “I’m fine Bella, everything’s all right.”

            You swallowed hard once as you nodded and lifted the corners of your lips into a broken half smile. Then you raised your other hand and sent the fist straight into the asshole’s nose. Red gushed out the offended protrusion as the lad yelped in pain and stumbled backwards away from your flushed and trembling form. Though this time you were vibrating in justified homicidal rage. Cheeks flushed red in temper and eyes bright and dry as the desert you shouted, “YOU ASSHOLE!” and stomped by, pushing the idiot to the ground before traipsing off to as far away as you could fucking get.

            Óin came up to the felled lad where he lay moaning on the ground, grasping at his bleeding nose while Bofur trailed after you intending to keep you from falling over a cliff in earnest this time. Fíli just shook his head as he watched you storm off, a small smile lifting his beaded mustache as he looked back to his dippy brother, “If you don’t marry her I will.” Then he promptly jumped over Kíli’s failed attempt to kick his feet out from under him and laughed at the sad impression of a landed trout the lad was making.


	11. XXY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your first words during the entire journey being “Well, shit.” after Smaug flees Erebor, and that being the moment everyone realizes you are a woman
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/109877312549/imagine-your-first-words-during-the-entire-journey
> 
> I love this concept

            “Well, shit.” Admittedly a little callous for what had just happened, but really it’s not like anyone had written a novel on what to say after you and your friends set a fire breathing menace loose onto a town full of unsuspecting innocents. If they had you probably still wouldn’t have known what to say cause you really weren’t a reader like cousin Bilbo, and even if you were you’d have never thought in this lifetime or the next that _this_ would have been a situation you’d ever find yourself in.

            Regardless, you suddenly found that the dragon was, though still largely in your mind, quickly taking backseat to the way the Company was staring at you. Well, save Bilbo who was just clutching his head and pulling on his curls in guilt and frustration. You, of course, were trying to figure out what just happened to the rest of them, glanced over your shoulders and down at the rumpled and dirty clothes you’d borrowed from Bilbo before the onset of this journey. They were something like three sizes too big and had belonged to his father before him but they’d been the best you could do at such short notice. Did you catch on fire or something? “…What?” you looked back up at the assembly with your brow furrowed and your head tilted to the side in your obvious confusion. The curls you’d hacked off had been growing back slowly since the beginning of the journey and now swirled in a bouncy cascade around your head falling at about chin length now.

            What you hadn’t realized was the picture you made now was slowly spiraling your dwarves into a panic. You, to this point in the journey, hadn’t said more than a handful of words at a time to any one dwarf, and all those were practically whispered, as you were a naturally shy creature. You’d come to care greatly for your Company but you had a natural aversion to speaking loudly in a group setting, preferring to keep your tone even and low, reserved for those with an active interest in gaining your opinions. As a result, your very clear, very obviously female alto had been mistaken for a high baritone. Similarly your baggy clothes had left you rather amorphous, compounded with the bands you’d wrapped around your chest to keep your figure from gaining undo attention on the journey there was significantly less curvature to your physique at all. You’d also cut the long locks off the moment Bilbo’d come storming into your smial the morning after the dwarrow had come to commission him, knowing taking care of the damned things would be impossible on the road. Obviously, all of these things together wouldn’t actually equate to male in everyone’s brain but the dwarrow had little if anything to do with outsiders and their own women were rather masculine looking to the other races of the world, so it wasn’t that surprising they’d assumed hobbits were just softer and smoother than the other races as a whole.

            The other important thing to realize was just how highly valued womenfolk were in dwarrow society. They were worth more than their weight in gold and to potentially risk the life of a female was the height of criminal. So the resulting squawking was actually very understandable.

            “What… what did ye say lad?” Glóin stuttered as he stepped a bit closer to your confused self.

            You blushed at the crass language you’d used as you stuttered out, “I… I’m sorry for my rudeness. I know it’s not exactly ladylike but I – ”

            “Ladylike?” the breathless squeak that came out of the redhead was a bit alarming. And may be indicative of too much smoke inhalation.

            And then it all hit you like a brick to the race and your eyes widened at the rather surprising and unwitting ruse you’d been caught in, “Um, I’m a… lass?”

            “What do ye mean yer a lass?” Nori’s was finding new heights in pitch it seemed. The ragged looking lad suddenly turned away from you to point at Bilbo, “An’ wat’s tha’ make you then?! A bleedin’ sheep!?”

            “Hey now!” the male hobbit shouted as he came up to stand a bit in front of you as all hell started breaking loose.

            “Oh Mahal,” Thorin’s exhale was the least of the reactions, though his blind stumble onto his haunches was a bit disturbing. Especially since you’d left Óin in town so there was no healer among you any longer.

            “We didn’t. We couldn’t!” Bombur looked near ready to cry as he stared at you in horror.

            “Gandalf wouldn’t –” Ori was shaking his head as he clutched at Dori in panic.

            “The hell’d you mean he _wouldn’t_?! He _did_!!!” Glóin hollered at the youth as he started waving his axe around in the air as though daring the batty wizard to manifest and account for his crimes.

            “He wouldn’t send us on a death defying mission cross a continent filled with death and peril at every turn with a woman!” Dori insisted, holding himself stiffly as he tried to calm his younger brother where the scribe was shaking and seemed one harsh word away from bursting into tears.

            “Aye? That so? And when did that barmy bastard give you the impression of having a soul?” Dwalin had joined Glóin in threatening the air and swinging his hammer at some of the rubble that was the front gate.

            The tone the guard used seemed to have gotten Nori’s back up as he suddenly turned away from the hobbit’s he’d been staring at and growled out, “Don’t take tha’ tone with my brothers ye bald bastard!” This broke the tension that had been riding the air, turning it into a riotous battle as the impassioned dwarrow snapped and started snarling at each other.

            Bilbo and yourself looked on in a mix of guilt and bemusement. Well, Bilbo was bemused, and not a little annoyed at the nonsense. He was switching from glaring at the idiot louts, massaging his temple and eyes as though fighting off a rather severe headache, and smiling reassuringly back at you. You were actually the only one feeling guilty, and embarrassed at everything. Deep red stained your cheeks and neck as embarrassment and shame fought for dominance, it wasn’t every day you were given empirical evidence of your truly unappealing physique, and if thirteen men confusing you for a male wasn’t evidence than you didn’t know what was. It was also rather alarming to be at the center of all this anger and you were shrinking back from the hollering dwarrow.

            “THAT’S ENOUGH!” Balin’s voice cut through the nonsense of the moment as he stormed into the midst of the gaggle. His eyes were sharp and scolding as he shook his head in his disappointment. “We’ve far bigger problems than our collective lack of observation skills! For instance a dragon making its way to a town made of wood floating in the middle of a lake!” Once the dwarrow settled in remembered guilt he turned to where you and Bilbo continued to stand apart from the group, “Now lass, don’t think this has anything to do with ye. Anyone with eyes and a workin’ brain would have noticed ye weren’t a lad the first they’d seen ye.” His small, reassuring smile was a nice gesture, even if you weren’t too sure you believed the grandfatherly figure.

            “What do you mean you knew!? When did you find out!? WHY DIDN’T YE TELL ANYONE?!” Bombur’s yelp let you in on what Bifur had apparently just tried to sign at you from where he stood beside his cousin.

            The addled dwarf merely snorted as he continued to grumble in his odd speech and gesture at you. Considering the direction he indicated translation was hardly necessary as the dwarrow suddenly turned a bit pink and started looking everywhere but you. Your hands came up to hopefully cool your face before it exploded while Bilbo cleared his throat loudly and announced, “All right then, back to the dragon yes?”

***

            A few days later found your missing company members arriving, alive and hail, much to everyone’s joy. During the reunion you Bofur came up to you with his big happy grin and twirled you in an exuberant hug. You’re happy laughter as the miner set you back on your feet caused Fíli and Kíli to turn to you simultaneously and demand in shock, “You’re a _girl_!?”

            Which caused a riot once more as Óin snapped at them, “What’d ye think she was a bleedin’ turnip?!” As a healer he’d actually been the first to figure you were a female, what with the, to him, clear cycle you were on the entire trip.

            The only one not engaging in the nonsense was Bofur as he wrapped an arm about your drooping shoulders and sent you a quick wink and a charming smile, “Well, ye made a pretty lad, lass, but ye make fer a right gorgeous lass.” This had you blushing even harder than the argument as your stomach went through some curious acrobatics, but you turned a shy smile on the toymaker and leaned up to leave a small kiss on his grinning lips before burrowing your hot face into his tunic. He wrapped you up tight into his arms and you really didn’t give a damn about the argument anymore.


	12. Shot Through The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Kíli’s face when he realizes you’ve taken the arrow that was meant for him when making the Barrel Escape
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/111576790909/imagine-kilis-face-when-he-realises-youve-taken
> 
> I do like Tauriel but I wish she didn't lend herself so easily to becoming a meaningless plot device...

            You weren’t sure, but you were pretty sure, not completely positive but almost certain, that the Valar actively hated you. Far more vindictive than just plane ordinary hate, this was the kind of emotion that resulted in smiting and, apparently, white water barrel riding. Furthermore, they found it necessary to curse you with deep affections for the most beautiful, soulful, funny, sweet, _reckless_ dipshit on the face of Middle Earth!

            Why you allowed yourself to feel a minute of surprise when the noble _idiot_ scrambled out of the relatively safe barrel onto the definitely _unsafe_ bridge by himself and without a thought to what was creeping _behind_ him, you’d never know. But you didn’t let it hinder you as you leaped from your own to keep the royal nitwit safe. With a harshly growled, “Kíli!” you chassed after the little monkey as he climbed up and over and across to the lever that would release them all.

            And oh! So _that’s_ what it felt like to have your leg set on _fire_! You’re sure you tried to scream in a vain attempt to lessen the pain through auditory diffusion but seeing as that wasn’t even a thing it was probably better that your throat clenched shut at the waves of shock and trauma. You _did_ fall to your side as your blood baptized the wood of the damned, stupid, ruddy useless gate beneath you. And you managed to hear Kíli’s triumphant holler through the ringing in your ears, which led you to believe he’d managed to release the rest of the Company below. You also managed to see through the dark spots that seemed to have freckled your vision just in time to see an orc coming from behind the grinning idiot as he turned to you. The terror of having your sacrifice mean jack shit had you surging to your wounded feet and stumbling into the lad, “Kíli!”

            It turned out your quick reaction wasn’t necessary as within seconds of pushing the charming idiot over the edge into an escaping barrel you were rid of the Orc louse by an elfish arrow. You fell to your knees and then rolled into your own barrel for the worse experience of your too short, and yet too long, life. It would have been horrible had you not been hit. With the arrow that had been unceremoniously severed from your thigh upon your entry into the floating deathtrap it became a horrific and painful bump and go that had you fighting for consciousness as well as whatever of your stomach was surviving this ill fated quest.

            When you all finally made it down the waters to calm lake you were incoherent with pain and seasickness. If it hadn’t been for Bilbo’s yelped observation that your barrel was still washing down the current you’d probably have floated right out to sea. As it was Bifur and Dori came to your aid, wading into the water and fetching your horrifying little dingy. It was as the elder Ri tried to lift you out of the beastly thing you finally started screaming. It was also when you realized you’d probably been screaming the entire way down the river as your throat was scraped raw and your voice broke as you did. “Set her down here! Let me see that leg!” Óin’s harsh order was rapidly followed as the rest of the Company started yelling at each other trying to understand what had happened to you.

            “When the hell’d ye get tha’ lass!?” Dwalin growled as you were settled on the ground.

            “Y/N!” you were barely able to focus on Kíli as he fell to his knees at your side. As was their penchant, your eyes trained on his and you tried to force a small smile for the obviously concerned lad. It was viciously dashed by another yowl as Óin started fiddling with your leg. The lad was almost as white as you imagined you must be as he watched the doctor work and listened to your gut wrenching whimpering. His face was taut and that grin you loved was nowhere to be seen as he took your hand into his own and let you squeeze the life out of them.

            “Hmm, it’s an orc bolt. Must have happened when she chased after Kíli at the gate. We need to get the rest of it out and clean the wound. Orcs, nasty business. No knowing what else could have been on that thing before it cleaned itself in her thigh,” Óin’s bedside manner was the stuff of legends.

            But that was par for the course, Kíli’s face, on the other hand, was a pure symphony of emotion. You watched as his eyes and brow scrunched over his deep confused brown eyes before his entire body suddenly stilled and his face swirled to stare down at you. Those soulful coffee pools widened alarmingly as shock writ across his face before his dark brow settled over them and his mouth clenched into a thin line of ire or determination, you couldn’t be sure as you were beginning to see double. Even so you felt the way his hand clenched over yours a moment and as the other reached up and smoothed away your messy hair from your pale face before settling on your cold cheek. Your eyes fluttered a bit as you continued to fight consciousness, and tried to absorb as much heat as possible from the softly cradling hand. It was funny, you hadn’t realized how bone chilled you were until jus then.

            So absorbed in the moment with Kíli and ignoring the pain you were taken completely by surprise as Óin grasped your leg and Dori wrenched the rest of the bolt from you. You didn’t even have time to scream before black suffused you and you were out. Which was sad because you wouldn’t have missed Kíli’s caressing your cheek and softly brushing his lips over your forehead for the world.


	13. Wrecking Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Thorin pinning you up against the wall and having his way with you
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/109825400005/imagine-thorin-pinning-you-up-against-the-wall-and
> 
>  
> 
> I really can't imagine being taken against a wall is comfortable...

            The quest was finish, the war was won, and everyone was alive. Well, not everyone, but the Company was and that wasn’t something to take lightly. Most of you had even managed to remain mostly intact. Kíli had his sword arm in a bind and wasn’t allowed to use it till it had knit itself together again, Fíli had a pair of broken legs cause he was special that way, Dwalin had had a concussion (no surprise seeing the clear target his baldhead represented), Glóin had a few bruised ribs and the rest were riddled with various bruises and cuts. It was nothing to laugh at but better than they expected, and probably deserved, and definitely a time for celebration.

            At least, it had been till everyone had gotten drunk. Till then you’d been relieved and happy with the relatively happy with everyone’s continued existence. Now you were contemplating ending all of them yourself.

            “Come now lass! Don’t clam up! We’ve been travelin’ for the better part of the year how couldn’ we know?” Nori’s drink flushed face was leering at you as he swayed by his brothers.

            “Know what?” sweet Bilbo, your unwitting executioner.

            Bofur downed his cup before idling up to the hobbit and throwing his arm over his shoulders, before winking at you in what you assumed his alcohol drowned brain thought was covert, “Ye know lad! Our lady an’ her… rovin’ eyes.”

            Ori giggled into his cup as he cast some completely _un_ subtle glances Thorin’s way. The King looked like he’d eaten a pile of Smaug’s shit where he sat at the head of the table, glaring into his own tankard.

            You could feel your murderous tendencies flooding up your neck in a deep red wave. Even so you managed to ignore the idiots till everything went ass over teakettle.

            “I don’t see why ye both don’ jus’ have at it. The way the lass watches Thorin I’m surprised he hadn’ lit aflame before we hit the mountain.” It was possible Dwalin would be suffering a second concussion after Dori and Óin mopped him up from the floor after you sent your tankard at him. Either way, you’d be halfway back to Ered Luin before he was back on his feet. Leave it to those halfwits to let loose your most heavily guarded infatuation at the drop of a hat! And then cackle about it after you all but ran out of the dinning hall.

            You stormed away in a huff as the idiots hooted behind you. Before you could get more than a hall away you were suddenly whirled around by strong hands at your shoulders, and caught against the stone behind you and the solid warmth of your King. Thorin stood a breath away from you scowling magnificently as his blue eyes seemed to search your own for something only he could find.

            Or not as in the next instant he demanded, “Are they right?”

            Your brows shot up and your eyes went round. All you managed to do was stare at him in surprise as the clear desperation in the King’s tone rang in your head. Well, that, and the slow stroking of thick and war worn fingers falling down your arms and trailing over your exposed elbow, sending a small tremor through you at the contact with the sensitized area.

            Seeing you weren’t coming to terms with your tongue any time soon the dwarf growled lowly and leaned down, closer to your tense form, to rumble lightly in your ear, “Are. They. Right? Do you desire me?” His lips were so close they grazed your lobe as he finished.

            The lone reverberation had turned your stomach into a vat of molten _want_. The question had your face turning an intense shade of vermillion. His mouth and nearness made the rest of you tremble with _need_. And delicious as it all was, none of it was conducive to formulating any kind of articulation.

            He pulled back, eyes cataloguing everything about you, as he’d done time and again, not that you’d been privy to this. They took in the flush, your parted pink lips, the rapid rise and fall of your breasts as you tried to resupply your heated system with cool air, and your eyes, gone near pitch with desire as you watched him in trembling silence.

            There was a split second where his lips perked into a self-satisfied grin before they fell onto your own in a tender union. His hands trailed over your exposed arms, up to the column of your neck, over your soft cheeks and dove into your hair as he explored, with _agonizing slowness_ your lips and mouth. Everywhere he touched was on fire! Fire that raged and spread through your system, setting the rest of you ablaze with such intensity you felt as though your skin may give way to the growing tempest. You were overfull with emotion and desire, save in one place that _ached_ for fulfillment, becoming an endless chasm of greed and insatiable yearning.

            But how to get the sweetly tender caresses to tender you where they’d do the most good? With this spurring you on your own hands came up and wrapped around the King’s neck, your body moving to plaster itself against the length of strength and stone, and your teeth flashed forward to nip at the chapped bottom lip of your paramour.

            Whether it was all these or the bite, Thorin suddenly growled as he untangled one of his large hands from your hair and used it to grasp your thigh in a tight hold as he thrust you upward and moved you both backwards. Your back hit the wall and your legs came up and cinched around his tight waist as you levered yourself further forward and upward with your arms and hands anchored in his long black tresses. Your mouths fell away from each other as you cried out and moaned into the hall, feeling electric jolts as he lapped and suckled and bit at your under jaw and throat before nosing your low cut bodice down and laving at your breasts. His whiskers were leaving trails of burning sensation as he went and had you jackknifing into his taut body again and again. You were vibrating with need, undulating and panting against the muscled dwarf at your front, met with equally desperate thrusts as your spitefully clothed bodies tried to unite.

            So maddened with frustration you didn’t realize Thorin was grasping both your legs until one of his large paws thrust up and under your skirt to grip at the heavily moistened fabric that continued to give the illusion of decency. With a roar that shook through your being, he ripped the barrier away and thrust himself into your damply yearning maw. Your breath caught at the intrusion, but your body rejoiced at finally having savage nerves sated with the deep filling.

            From there it became a savage race to the finish, biting and clawing, kissing and moaning. You met his thrusts with sharp downward ones of your own, each joining reinforcing the previous sending more and more shocks and quivers through you. It was all coming to a heated head as your body heaved and overheated, you were on the precipice of something glorious and terrifying, your muscles clenching firmer and drawing him closer and deeper as you both went reached for your release.

            With a final hard thrust you fell apart, your muscled clinging and pulsing as they tried to unite you as one whole, screaming until his lips engulfed your mouth, silencing you as he continued to pummel you quickly before clenching and spilling into you. His strength stuttered as he leaned into you and the wall, trapping you up and above him, your foreheads resting against each other as you panted and tried to remember what it was to be two thinking and separate entities again.

            You may have stayed there for quite a while searching your mushed minds and memories had boot steps not began to reverberate a bit closer than you were strictly appreciative in the state you were in. Thorin tensed and stared up at your alarmed eyes as the steps came closer before apparently taking a turn down a different hall and wandering away from your debauched forms. As they faded you moaned and plunked your head against the wall as the King Under the Mountain dropped his own into the cushion of your breasts in front of him.

            You narrowed your eyes as you glared down at his shaking shoulders, “Are you laughing about this? What would people think if they found their King rutting in the halls with a commoner!?”

            The warm brush of air on your exposed breasts caused a small twinge to shoot through you and down to your center. Based on the quick inhale from Thorin the small clenching didn’t go unnoticed as he remained seated in you but he persevered and turned up to you, cupping your cheek as he leaned into your forehead again, “That he was a damned lucky fool.”

            Your blush was hot enough to boil water as you felt a soft glow suffuse you at the tenderness. To hide it you swooped in for a soft kiss, that took a turn into heated territory before Thorin leaned back and groaned, “Assassinating the King is a form of treason.”

            You give a wicked smirk as you bounce a bit in his arms, watching his apple bob as his member twitches inside you, “You think this is bad, wait till we get to a bed.”

            Those blue eyes went rather intense suddenly and you found yourself laughing uproariously as Thorin turned sharply, still holding you in his arms, and started a rapid march towards your rooms.


	14. Tugging on Pigtails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine being with the Company and doing something, which in our culture is just a friendly act but is associated with courting in dwarfish culture and then having to explain that you are not actually trying to court them
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/111277942839/imagine-being-with-the-company-and-doing
> 
> Cuteness ensues

 

            It really shouldn’t come as half so much a surprise. The entire quest was a mess of misunderstandings from the beginning. First there was the dinner, which Gandalf hadn’t told you or your brother about. Then there was the whole first half of this damned journey where the dwarrow were oh so accepting of you hobbits. Then Rivendell, and the less said about that the better. Finally the Carrock, where you all found out that, surprise! you were in fact a _girl_ hobbit. So, really, with all the _wonderful_ communication that had been going around the Company, this latest piece of nonsense should have been no surprise.

            It had started like most days; the Company had had a quick meal of boiled oats before going around and breaking ‘camp’. There was precious little to pack up actually. You were all on your way to meet a friend of Gandalf who would hopefully help you after loosing everything in those goblin caves. And, as per usual, you and your dear friends Fíli and Kíli were cutting up. Since the beginning you had been a curiosity for the younger dwarves, being a young hobbit yourself. As the trip had progressed you’d found the three of you shared a proclivity for jokes and hijinks. You’d been turning everyone’s hair grey and had nearly brought Rivendell to the ground with your shenanigans.

            And as close as the three of you had gotten, you were closest with Kíli. He’d been the one to initially go out of his way to talk with you at the beginning of the quest. He was the one who initially included you in he and his brother’s nonsense. And when everything had gone from bad to worst to crazy he’d been the first one to accept you for at the Carrock when you’d been ousted as a girl. He’d just smiled his biggest brightest smile and dragged you into a hug before telling Fíli you’d be able to get out of twice as much trouble now that they had a pretty, big eyed, lass on their side.

            So it was no surprise that you and Kíli were the ones making the biggest ruckus that morning as you tried your damndest to keep from doing anything that could be confused as productive. In all honesty, none of it would have happened had you not thought it would be hilarious to shove his face into his breakfast and then run away giggling. As it was, you did and he did what he did best, roar after you. And when he caught you, which _of_ _course_ he was going to, he was a warrior dwarf, you were a gentlehobbit, he proceeded to take his revenge in the fashion of tickling you to death.

            As you shrieked and yelled Thorin had finally had enough of the noise and roared, “ENOUGH! There is an orc party looking for us! We need to move! Stop rolling around in the dirt like a pair of currs.”

            Not one to take getting yelled at well you flinched and immediately rolled to your face, “Come on you!” you groused as you took hold of his braid and gave it a light tug.

            From the looks of Kíli’s shocked face you may have just shoved Orchrist up his ass. Blinking in surprise you turned to the rest of the company to see they all seemed as equally flabbergasted as you. All save Bilbo who was sharing your look of curious befuddlement, “Um…”

            Before you could get anything further out Fíli was bustling forward demanding, “Kíli! Don’t just sit there like an orc in a daisy field! Do you accept??!” the golden brother clasped his younger on the shoulder.

            Apparently that knocked some sense into the senseless as he leaped to his feet and grasped your hands up and to his chest, staring down at you with his coffee eyes and the brightest smile he’d ever given you, “Of course! I just wasn’t expecting… I thought I’d be… We haven’t even taken back Erebor!”

            “We’ll have it back in time for a spring wedding!” Dwalin announced happily as he came over to grasp the youngest Durin by the shoulders and knock their heads together with a painful sound clunk.

            You were, likewise, treated to an engulfing hug from behind as Bombur picked you up and congratulated you, “You’ll make such a pretty bride!”

            “My wife and I had a spring wedding. She was a sight, brought tears ta me eyes!” Glóin announced as he stole you off Bombur.

            “Aye, blubberin’ like a new born he was,” Óin yelled into the raucous congratulations of the company as he clapped you on the shoulder sending you right into Bifur and his garbled rock speech.

            “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves! They’ve still some time before then. There are certain traditions that can’t be thwarted. After all, Kíli is a direct heir to the line of Durin,” Balin’s fond smile as he clasped the youngest Durin by the shoulder’s belied his serious tone.

            Thorin came up to his nephew next and slapped him on both shoulders, “You’re a very lucky dwarf, Kíli. I’ll be proud to call her niece.”

            “It’s so romantic! Oh where’s my book!” Ori squealed as he raced away to fine his journal in his pack.

            It was this as much as the quick pinch to the rear you received from Nori as the slick bastard winked at you before saying, “Had ta get one more in before your officially off the market lass,” that had you wrenching out of Bofur’s grasp and racing to hide behind Bilbo. The older hobbit was watching the rest of the company with the same shocked confusion you were feeling as he spread his arms out to help you hide from the suddenly insane dwarrow.

            “Wait! WHAT!? What’s all this then?! What just happened? What’s there to celebrate?” the lad asked sharply as the rest turned to eye the pair of you in surprise.

            “Well the wee lass just proposed! Of course we’re celebratin’,” Bofur’s bright smile almost convinced you the world made sense until you registered what he’d just said you’d done.

            “What?! When?! I did… didn’t… _What_!?”

            Your confusion put a swift end to the revelry as everyone stopped and stared at where you and Bilbo were standing confused and a touch concerned. It was Balin who finally realized the misstep, “Oh my. Lassie, touching another dwarf’s hair is a sign of, well, courtship.”

            You blinked at the ludicrous creature as the rest began to realize, once again, that hobbits were not in fact, hairless dwarves, and thus could be treated as such. Nor were they mind readers so they needed things explained in plain bleedin’ speech thank ye kindly.

            “It was a mistake then?” Fíli asked as his brow crunched up, grasping his brother’s shoulder as the younger Durin continued to stare at you, his face frozen in something indefinable but it made something in your stomach twist like you were gonna be sick.

            “So… no wedding?” Ori’s puppy face fell and made you feel like you’d just denied him sunshine and candy.

            “I… I’m sorry… I didn’t…” you stuttered as you stepped out from behind Bilbo and moved towards Kíli a step.

            The motion seemed to wake him up as he shook his head and spread his mouth into a wide shit eating grin, “It’s nothing lass! Just a joke! I didn’t think you actually meant anything by it! Of course hobbits have different courting… rituals.” The lad came to a stuttering halt as he coughed a minute and turned away from you.

            Thorin, seeing the clear discomfit in his nephew announced sharply, “Enough of this! Pack up! We’ve wasted enough time here!”

            As the rest moved about, back to their tasks you turned your sights towards your dear friend, “Kee?”

            Kíli just continued to stare out to the side, not meeting your eyes as he laughed weakly and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. It was then you realized what he’d stuttered a moment before accepting your suit, about Erebor and something about himself. You bite your lip as you step closer to the taller lad, ducking a bit to stare up at his downcast face, “This, um, is how we would present a suit in the Shire.” And then you went up on your tiptoes to purse your lips against his.

            It was a quick thing, just a soft slide and you were stepping back, blushing a deep pink as you turned your face down to your curly haired feet.

            Bilbo’s dry tone held not a little bit a humor as he told the gathering from his spot leaning against a tree watching the proceedings, “Traditionally, you kiss her back, lad.”

            Barely a breathe later you were wrapped in warm, strong arms as Kíli slanted his lips against yours, his tongue flashing in to take advantage of your gasp and drawing out a little mewling noise from you as you reached up and grasped at the hair at the back of his head. Neither of you heard the cheering till you came up for air and even then you weren’t too concerned as you both came back together for another kiss.


	15. Damn Your Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine catching Bofur by surprise when you kiss him because you can’t resist his cute smile
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/95752763546/imagine-catching-bofur-by-surprise-when-you-kiss
> 
> I feel this prompt

 

            It was rather obvious that the powers that be actually hated you. You’d been happily minding your own damn business when suddenly chaos and bedlam erupted next door. It had sounded like a pack of pigs had gotten set loose in Mister Bilbo’s smial. Of course, as a concerned neighbor, and long time friend, you’d thought it only your duty to march over and make sure everything was all right. Before you knew it, you were dodging dishware, dancing with dwarves, and signing onto a suicide mission the likes of which no hobbit, proper or otherwise, belonged on.

            There’d been Trolls, Orcs, Wargs, Wizards with unfortunate drug habits, and snoring that could rock the rafters on a barn clear across Arda!

            All because you couldn’t say no to a _smile_! That damn thing shouldn’t be allowed near anyone above the age of _breathing_! You didn’t understand how it didn’t work on the Orcs. Or the Elves. Actually there wasn’t much in the way of good cheer from this lot at Rivendell for all they were gracious and generous. They didn’t seem to be properly appreciative of the cheerful way Bofur went about dancing on the table, smiling in that beguiling way of his.

            Had it _just_ been his smile, you _really_ want to say you’d have been able to get over it. At least by the time you reached the edge of the Shire… Bree… the Trolls definitely! Either way, it wasn’t _just_ the smile; of course, Bofur also had to be the sweetest dwarrow of the Company and damn well may be the sweetest male in all Arda. He was always helping you and Bilbo, the weakest and least knowledgeable. He became an instant companion to the pair of hobbits, helping you tend the horses, with your riding, making you feel like maybe you _weren’t_ a complete nutter for trailing after a pack of strangers in nothing but some borrowed half trou and an old shirt.

            Now you were in Rivendell, safe for all that Thorin kept growling after the hosts like a bitch in heat, and gathered in the small courtyard for supper and bonding. Bofur was sitting next to you telling everyone some grand tale about some legend of this or that. What you were having a problem with was the way his eyes were lit up as he talked and the way his hands moved with his narration and the way he kept _smiling_ as he engaged his audience.

            Suddenly he was turning that cheery smile on you again and you just couldn’t take it anymore. Without so much as a by your leave you leaned forward and grasped the miner by the cheeks, sealing your mouth over his. His grin turned surprise as you held him and trailed your lips over his in a gentle caress before moving back as nerves assailed you, panting a bit from the rush and surprise of your own actions. Bofur sat there, eyes blown wide, obviously trying to process what the hell their burglaress had just subjected him too. Before anyone could say a word you blushed a deep ruby and all but shouted, “I’m sorry I’ve been terribly forward and _completely_ inappropriate! I should _never_ have done that without at _least_ an invitation. Not even then but… I couldn’t help it! You’re smile is just… _intoxicating_! It should come with a _warning_! I mean, it’s _obviously_ not your fault this is all my own improper, crass–Mmmph!?!”

            Bofur listened to the prattle a bit as he came to himself once more, realizing the little hobbit he’d been doing his _damndest_ to _not_ snog, especially when she was all red and twitching as she was now (it was _adorable_ how ridiculously she fluttered about), the one he’d relegated to _entirely_ out of his reach, had just laid one on him, no pomp or ceremony. Just popped him in the mouth. Her petal soft lips brushing his a moment before she was backing off and rambling about how _damned_ _irresistible_ he was. And if _that_ wasn’t enough to make a dwarf feel like he could conquer Mordor she was blushing and flustered just the way he liked her and he _really_ wanted another, _longer_ , taste of that pretty plump mouth. So without another second to waste he rose up and claimed her mouth as his own.

            This kiss wasn’t just a soft flirting of lips though, as he was a dwarf with purpose, and if she was going to come to her senses in the next second he’d make damn good and sure he got everything he could out of this momentary lapse in judgment to keep him warm during the coming cold nights. His gloved hands rose up and clasped the plump waist as he dragged the tiny body towards him and used the surprise to position her how he’d wanted since seeing her cute little self in that burrow, plump legs wrapped around his waist and his hands burying into her downy curls as he delved his tongue into her own mouth. His hands settled over her back and hip to allow him to feel the heated body against his, hopefully to solder her to his being.

            Eventually air became a factor and you parted, panting as Bofur brought his hatted forehead to rest against yours. After a moment the dwarf smiled that very same gut wrenching smile and rose to his feet, hands coming up to support your plump arse. He enjoyed the tiny yelp he got as he tossed the wee one more securely against him as he pecked the kiss bruised lips before beginning to make his way towards your room, “I think we’ve got some things to discuss then lass.”

            You smiled brighter as you stared down into heated brown eyes and a brilliantly charming smile, “Definitely… Later,” and then swooped in for another soul searing claim.

            You barely made it to Bofur’s room, and eventually made it to the bed. The next morning the pair of you showed up late to breakfast, you firmly perched on Bofur’s lap sporting some curious beard burn and Bofur showing off a handful of deep purple bites that peppered his neck.


	16. Meet Me Under The Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine accidentally walking under mistletoe with one of the Company
> 
> http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/106163574512/imagine-accidentally-walking-under-mistletoe-with
> 
>  
> 
> Nori has no shame

 

            The quest was over, the dragon slain and the battle won. Everyone was surprised to find the Company intact after the hell that had been their reclamation of the Mountain. Not the least shocked being the hobbit pair they’d picked up in Hobbiton, though whether they were more shocked they had survived the hair raising events or that the line of Durin hadn’t suffered a casualty was anyone’s guess. Even so, after everything was said and done, treatise drawn and signed, alliances soldered in blood and treasure, there wasn’t a single Dwarrow, Man, or Elf that wasn’t looking for something to lighten the air that shrouded the new Kingdom. So when the little burglar’s had tentatively suggested a party there was very little arguing to be heard. And any that were soon found themselves at the receiving end of some rather pointy objects or, worse still, twin puppy eyes from two of the tiniest creatures they’d ever seen in their thrice cursed existence.

            So a party there was, just in time for Yule. It may not be the grandest, seeing as there was still much grieving being done in the aftermath of the Kingdom’s bloody baptism, but between the elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves from the Iron Hills they’d managed to scrape together a fair spread that was heartily subsidized by wine and ale. Decoration was something else that could have used some help, but there were some not too terrible looking wreathes that had been ruthlessly woven into submission by Dori, (Y/N), and Bilbo. There had even been a spattering of ridiculous looking berry weed carted in from the Elven Halls at the hobbit’s behest.

            “What’s this for?” Kíli’s eyes were wide as he turned the little bundle over in his hand, leaning against the she-hobbit instead of his crutch like a good lad should.

            A weight you found far from pleasing and downright aggravating as you found yourself being painfully bent towards the rather uncomfortable stone floor. Even so, you were unwilling to save yourself by thrusting the wounded lad off you and to the ground himself. With a huffed breath you tried snatching the posy out of his hand before he could bring the bundle to his mouth and start gnawing on the poisonous berries, “It’s called mistletoe you turnip, and they’re poisonous so _no eating_.”

            You could see across the hall where your brother was trying to pull some from Bifur’s questing hands only to be suspended in midair as the warrior tried to take the mass back from him. At least Kíli had the sense to instantly throw it down and away as he turned incredulous eyes towards you, “Are you planning on poisoning us?!”

            “We’ve _just_ had a battle (Y/N)! Can’t you wait a few months before take the rest of us out?” Fíli asked calmly as he popped up on your other side, sending you and Kíli tumbling to the floor when your start overbalanced the pair of you.

            As Kíli moaned from the new bruises you glared up at the oh so innocent blonde, “It’s a tradition. You hang them about and, should two people stand under some they exchange a small kiss. It spreads good cheer and can be very sweet when not being mistreated by heathens.”

            Fíli smirked as he offered you a hand up, “Why, Miss Hobbit, are you hoping for a kiss then? Maybe someone we know?”

            You glared at the ponce, ignoring your glowing cheeks as you wrestled your arm back from him only to be grappled from behind as Kíli once again draped himself over you, “Ooh! Maybe a certain redhead with sticky fingers? Is it maybe – AHH!!!”

            You smirked as you pranced off, having dumped young Kíli into the lap of his equally as annoying brother, “It’s for the tables and none of your business. Now be good lads and get to setting them up so I can start distributing the food.” Not registering a certain star shaped shadow leaning against the wall not far from where you’d been previous conversing.

            Of course that was hours ago, the party had started and people were eating and talking. The dwarrow hadn’t physically menaced the elves yet, so, thank Mahal for small favors. Gandalf had even garnered a small audience of tots to entertain with his smaller tricks, with smoke and shadow. Everything was going just fine. Until, that is, it wasn’t any longer.

            You were leaning against the wall watching as Fíli and Kíli made asses of themselves on the dance floor, crutches and all, laughing and clapping along with the rest of the gathering. Unbeknownst to you, Nori’d been watching you rather closely, a habit he’d picked up since they’d spirited you and Bilbo away from the beginning of the quest but something that had yet to be acknowledged by you or he. But as he finished his one-cup past stupid suddenly something snapped as another dwarrow, one of Dáin’s, came up to start chatting the Burglar’s little sister up. With a frown, never taking his eyes off the she-hobbit he grasped up some of the poisonous berry plant from where it decorated the table and tossed it in the air.

            You were beginning to feel the strain in your smile as you tried to extricate yourself politely from the entirely too close dwarrow and the noxious conversation. Really you were about three seconds from kneeing him and flouncing off in a huff when you were saved by _mistletoe_ of all things. Well, really by the dwarf’s very reasonable fear of the blade that embedded itself _into_ the mistletoe a mere breathe away from his eyes above your own curly head. The bastard’d been looming like some greater bat species and was now wind milling backwards over one of the tables of drink and snacks. His garbled yelping was hardly heard over your own full-bodied laughter as you turned away from him, doubling over in mirth and seeking out your savior.

            Nori, of course, followed his knife rather swiftly across the hall and right into your personal space, caging you in with his arms on either side of your laughing head. Grinning wickedly he asked, “This the proper way to go about it then?” as he leaned in to smother the joyful emissions with his own mouth. You barely registered the loud cheers from the Company over your thrumming blood and beating hearts. Though Nori did manage to flick Bofur off when the miner hollered into the hall, “About bleedin’ time!”


End file.
